


Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

by Stargon



Series: Dragon Chronicles [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dragons, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19106254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stargon/pseuds/Stargon
Summary: Being a parselmouth, Harry is hired by all of the Dragon Sanctuaries. His new job: to travel the world, check on all the dragons, talk to them and learn about them. The dragons have also heard of Harry's talent - as an artist and they can be pushy about having their portrait painted. With dragons, magizoologists and shades of Dark Lords after him, Harry's life is anything but dull.





	1. Gone For Good?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it’s been a long time coming, but finally I have gotten around to starting the sequel to Muggle-Raised Champion. If you haven’t read that story, I strongly suggest that you click the back button, find it on my profile page and read it first (those who have read it may even want to reread it to refamiliarize yourself with the story as well) – this story simply won’t make sense otherwise. Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer is all planned out and the first few chapters have already been written. The plan is to release a new chapter every two weeks for the foreseeable future, with the alternate weeks being used for posting chapters of a different story. I hope that Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer is liked as much as Muggle-Raised Champion was.

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Front Page Article of_ The Daily Prophet

.

_Boy-Who-Leaves: Is This The Best Thing For Wizarding Britain? by Rita Skeeter_

_Yes, my dear readers, today is the day that you are either dreading or looking forward to. Today is the day that Harry Potter is to leave the British Isles._

_Throughout the last month when it became known that The-Boy-Who-Lived was to leave, opinions have been varied. And why shouldn’t they be. After all, the boy that we’ve all been hearing about ever since he did whatever inexplicable magic that caused He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name’d downfall all those years ago, has been uppermost in our thoughts. Many of our children have grown up reading about our Hero, Harry Potter. He captured our hearts and minds, more so because he disappeared so quickly after saving us all._

_And then, as you know, dear readers, he only resurfaced briefly when he was due to start Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he was eleven. Yes, back then, we were all eagerly waiting for our hero to re-join us. Many speculated on where he’d been, what held been doing, what he’d been learning._

_The answer of course, surprised us all for Harry Potter_ hadn’t _been learning advanced magic, he_ hadn’t _been off having wonderful, magical adventures, being the hero we dreamed that he was. No, my dear readers, Harry Potter had been with his muggle relatives, relatives who forbade his attendance at Hogwarts._

_As I’m sure that you’ll remember, there was an immediate outcry up and down the Isles when his rejection letter was sent in. Many demanded our leaders do something to counter that, to bring him to us by force if necessary. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the case. Instead, our oh so wise Leaders decided that they_ couldn’t _rescue poor Harry, instead being bound by the very laws that they swore to serve._

_Thankfully, our wishes were finally answered eight months ago when, in a bizarre twist, the Goblet of Fire, the ancient magical object tasked with choosing the Champions that would compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament between Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Beauxbatons Academie and the Durmstrang Institute, chose not three Champions, but_ four _! And who should be that fourth? Why, no other than our boy Hero, Harry Potter._

_But was this really for the best? One does have to wonder._

_For no sooner had young Harry returned to the magical world and Hogwarts, than he began upsetting the natural order of how things in the magical world were always done. Our traditionalists especially, were incensed at some of the things that Harry Potter brought with him. And I’m not just talking about material items either, dear readers. No, I’m talking about his_ ideas _._

_This was no more pronounced than at the Yule Ball, held at Hogwarts for the three magical schools to celebrate the Yuletide. We were all suitably impressed when the whispers emerged from Hogwarts that young Harry was to escort the heiress of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, Daphne. But that was until Harry Potter spat in the face of our traditions! Instead of wearing traditional robes to the Ball, Harry Potter decided to wear_ muggle _fashion, an insult to not only the beautiful Daphne Greengrass but to our entire society._

_Of course, you, my dear readers are fully aware that this was only the tip of the wand of The-Boy-Who-Lived’s many snubbing of our society. The way that he tackled the three Tasks of the TriWizard Tournament provides even more proof._

_Ah, yes, the TriWizard Tournament. I have already written countless articles on Harry Potter’s so-called attempts at the Tasks (see pages 7, 8, 9 and 11 for a reprinting of those aritcles). But for those of you who have been living under an obscurus curse, let me recap!_

_The First Task. For this, the Champions’ ingenuity, magical prowess and cunning were tested as they fought their way past a dragon to retrieve a golden egg. Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts, Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons and Victor Krum of Durmstrang all proved that they were indeed worthy of their titles of ‘Champion’, performing admirably. But Harry Potter? No. Our so-called ‘hero’ chose to mock the Task by deciding to_ paint _a picture of the dragon! And if that wasn’t enough, he then proved that he has command of one of the darkest skills imaginable: parseltongue. Yes, my dear readers, Harry Potter_ talked _the dragon into handing over the Golden Egg._

_That brings us to the Second Task. For this Task, a hostage, someone special to each of the Champions was placed in an enchanted sleep and hidden at the bottom of the Black Lake for them to retrieve. Do you think Harry Potter used a bubble-head charm like Mister Diggory or Miss Delacour? Or perhaps transfiguration like Mister Krum? No, he did not. Instead, he went_ fishing _and_ bribed _one of the merpeople into retrieving his hostage for him._

_Finally, we have the Third Task. A maze filled with magical enchantments and creatures to truly test the Champions. Not that Harry Potter lasted all that long. No, at the first opportunity, he fashioned some type of footwear to walk over the top of the maze before jumping out._

_After hearing all of that, I’m sure that, like me, you are thinking ‘good riddance’ to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Someone like that_ should _be cast from our society for the way he acts and treats our traditions and up-and-coming children._

_Ah, but here’s the bludger that you didn’t see coming: Harry Potter is indeed as powerful as we all imagined that he could be, a fact that he proved on his second day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where, without any formal training under his robes, he was able to demonstrate wandless magic the likes of which hasn’t been since in the British Isles since the great Merlin himself!_

_With that sort of talent and power, surely we_ want _to keep The-Boy-Who-Lived here with us, if nothing else to merge his bloodline with the rest of us. Surely, he could be taught his place and to respect our society and traditions?_

_Unfortunately, that decision has been taken out of our hands. And by who, I hear you ask? Why, no other than the combined Dragon Reserves of the world. Inexplicably, they_ value _his parseltongue ability! In fact, they want to_ use _it! Thus, they have offered Harry Potter as a ‘dragon consultant’ and have even agreed to pay for him to complete his education!_

_Which brings us to today. Today is that fateful day when Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, will leave our shores to take up his post with the Dragon Reserves. I leave it to you, dear readers, to decide if this bodes well or ill for us as a society and for the Wizarding World as a whole._

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witcraft and Wizardry, dropped his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ on to his desk in disgust. Savagely, he spun his chair about, away from the offending paper, almost overspinning away from the calming view that could be seen from his window and back to face the paper once again. A judicious hand, flung out to the side to catch the edge of his desk, was enough to stop his momentum and to turn him back to the direction that he’d originally intended.

He had been dreading this day, a day that he had never in his wildest dreams – nay, _not_ dreams _nightmares_ – would ever come to pass. Harry Potter leaving England! The very thought was absurd. But apparently, despite his best efforts, the boy was indeed leaving.

_“You are the child of the prophecy, Harry. And it is time that you began to ready yourself to fulfil your destiny. When Voldemort returns, it will be here, in Britain, and you will be needed here.”_

Albus remembered saying those very words to young Harry right here in this very office not so long ago. In hindsight, his thoughts on how that meeting went were greatly in error.

He’d _thought_ that he’d gottren through to the boy. He’d even told him of the prophecy, the one that bound Harry and Tom together. At the time, it’d seemed that Harry, however initially incredulous, had understood: Harry and Tom were entwined in fate, that nothing either did would prevent it and that here, at Hogwarts, was Harry’s very best chance to prepare.

Even that, getting Harry _to_ Hogwarts in the first place had not been as easy as he’d first thought. Indeed, like countless children, Harry’s place at the greatest school of witchcraft and wizardry had been ensured, written in the book when he was born. A letter had been sent to him at the appropriate time, inviting him to attend when he was eleven.

Alas, the fact that Albus had had to send Hagrid to personally deliver Harry’s letter when it became obvious that none of the others were reaching the boy’s hand should have been Albus’ first clue that there could be some problems in his grand plan for the Greater Good of the wizarding world.

And then had come the letter that had stunned not just Albus himself, but Magical Britain as a whole. Harry Potter’s relatives _declined the invitation_! Oh, it wasn’t unheard of, muggleborns rejecting the invitation to Hogwarts. But for The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter to decline via his muggle relatives, was completely unexpected.

The matter had even made its way to the Wizengamot, where, despite Albus’ best efforts, his hands had been tied by the very laws that governed the world: the wishes of the guardians must take precedent. Oh, how Albus rued the day that he’d left young Harry with his last living family.

It took three additional years for Albus to manoeuvre events into place to ensure that Harry would finally be able to attend Hogwarts. Thus had come about the TriWizard Tournament, albeit with a slight alteration on Albus’ part. Even today, Albus was still surprised how much power he had had to pour into his _confundus_ charm in order to get the Goblet of Fire to choose not three Champions as it was supposed to, but _four_. Of course, with Harry Potter’s name being the only one submitted for that fourth school, it was assured that Harry would come to Hogwarts or lose his magic.

And come he had. There’d still be challenges, the boy being more headstrong and stubborn than Albus had expected but the main thing was that Harry _was_ at Hogwarts. He’d been sure that with a year at the prestigious school, making friends, learning about magic, that Harry’s place at Hogwarts would be assured for years to come.

Alas, that wasn’t to be. The boy had openly defied him! Him, Albus Dumbledore! And, even with the knowledge that Albus had been forced to share with the boy, he’d simply left! Without even letting anyone know that he was leaving the school.

That had been a month ago and, try as he might, Albus had been unable to locate the boy since. He’d even suspected that he’d already left Britain altogether before this. Again, however unexpectedly, Albus was proved wrong.

No, today was the day that Harry was leaving Britain and Albus was forced to, once again, begin searching for a way to get Harry Potter to the one place that he needed to be: under the roof of the greatest school of magic in the world and under the tutelage of its venerable Headmaster.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Augusta, the Lady Dowager Longbottom, paused in the entry to the small dining room of Longbottom Manor and observed her grandson. Neville had changed over the course of the past year away from home at Hogwarts. He’d lost much of the baby fat that he’d been known for as a child and was beginning to grow into his looks. And, as much as Augusta hated to admit it, there was more than a touch of his mother in his face.

As Neville had grown, she’d been tough on him, striving to instil in him the qualities that Augusta saw in his father. Frank had been an auror, full of power, loyalty, strength and determination to do what was right. He had excelled at Defence and Transfiguration, both necessary skills in his line of work. But, try as she might, young Neville had always disappointed her, showing barely a hint of what made his father, her son, such a great man.

No, Neville seemed determined to follow in his mother’s footsteps. Herbology and Charms, the _soft_ subjects. Those, as much as she hated to admit it, he had an affinity for. And it was for those subjects that young Neville had been chosen this past year to become a peer tutor to Harry Potter. Augusta could only assume that Neville’s rise in confidence was directly related to the friendship that he had made with Lord Potter.

That thought was enough to cause Augusta to frown.

Harry Potter _should_ still have been exactly like Neville, a fourteen, nearly fifteen year old boy, _not_ an adult through emancipation. That adulthood had been bestowed upon him with the best of intentions, as a way to entice young Harry back to the magical world so that he didn’t lose his magic, was understandable, however lamentable.

But the ramifications for the Potter line, ramifications that effected not only the Wizengmot of Magical Britain but also the Board of Governors, both of which Augusta was a member of, continued. Currently, both of the Potter seats within those bodies were being held-in-trust by Elphias Doge, an appointment that had been made by Albus Dumbledore, someone who should have had no say in such things.

Even now, Augusta was uncertain whether Harry Potter even knew of the responsibilities that he had within Britain. Theoretically, Sirius Black – and there was another who was shirking his duties as far as Augusta was concerned – should have told the boy but whether he had done so or not was anyone’s guess.

A small nod of Augusta’s head confirmed that she would add those concerns to the next visit that she had with Amelia Bones, after all, the two of them had much to discuss and strategies still to decide upon based upon the letter that Harry had sent to Amelia via young Susan.

The soft breeze blowing through the open window caught the edge of _The Daily Prophet_ , flapping the paper and catching Augusta’s attention. While she couldn’t read the headline from this distance, the picture of Harry Potter on the front page was clear to see. And that, combined with the morose look on Neville’s face, reminded her of what the date was: the day that Harry was to leave Britain to become a _dragon handler_ of all things.

As she took her place at the head of the table, Neville began pouring her tea for her, just as she liked it and she nodded approvingly.

“Thank you, Neville,” she said, inclining her head. Seeing that the boy barely acknowledged her, she did something that she rarely did – she reached out and patted his hand. “I am certain that your friend will write to you.”

Neville looked up and a smile appeared.

“Harry did promise that he would,” Neville replied. “He even said that he’d send me some magical plants from around the world!”

“That’s very nice of him,” Augusta acknowledged. “Make sure that you thank him properly if he does.”

“Yes, Gran,” Neville nodded and Augusta could see Alice shining in those eyes.

Perhaps it was time that she acknowledged her daughter-in-law in her grandson more instead of just trying to make Neville into a man like Frank was? It was something that Augusta decided to think more on.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

Daphne Greengrass woke from a dream that felt so real that she automatically touched her lips with the tips of her fingers before she’d even opened her eyes. Unfortunately, she was forced to admit that it’d been nothing but a dream. Still, at least she’d experienced the real thing. Twice, even.

The first time that they’d kissed was just before the start of the Third Task of the TriWizard Tournament. Then, it’d been she who’d initiated it, catching the boy by surprise. It’d been worth it, though, feeling him respond, his hands coming to rest on her hips even as she cupped his face and kept him close.

The second time had been a mutual kiss. This one had lasted longer but had meant so much more. Their kiss had been filled with words that neither had been able to say, out loud or even, at least in Daphne’s case, to herself. The one thing that she most definitely did _not_ want that kiss to say, was ‘goodbye’. Even if there was definitely an element of it in there.

No, saying goodbye to the boy who she’d come to care so very deeply for was not something that she was ready for. Back then or even today. Not that she would get a chance to today.

To be perfectly honest, she never expected to fall for him the way that she had. The very idea of him, of Harry, had intrigued her when Professor McGonagall had approached her to be one of his peer tutors. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The boy who never came to Hogwarts, instead remaining in the muggle world.

She’d expected him to be arrogant and uncouth, steeped in the muggle life with no idea of how to act within magical society. ‘Culture clash’, Harry’d called it. And indeed, there’d been quite a bit of that and it had led to some very intense _discussions_ with Harry.

The first inkling of it had been the day after he’d arrived, when he’d called Malfoy on his ideas of purebloods being better, magically stronger than half-bloods and muggleborns. And there was no doubt that Harry’d been right – birth meant nothing in terms of magical power. Even Professor Snape had been forced to concede that point.

No, thinking back, Daphne realised that she was wrong there. The _first_ inkling of Harry’s naivete of magical culture was when he blurted out the fact that he was a _parseltongue_ with no regard for how witches and wizards with such an ability were viewed in magical society within Britain. And then, even after the warnings to keep his ability secret, what did the great lump go and do? _Talk to a dragon using parseltongue in front of the entire school, journalists and magical Britain as a whole!_

But the biggest ‘culture clash’ that the two of them had encountered was at the Yule Ball. Daphne’s dream had come true when Harry’d asked her to be his date to the Ball. What she _hadn’t_ been expecting, was for him to turn up in a muggle _tuxedo_ instead of proper wizarding robes. She’d had to endure the ridicule and embarrassment of his appearance, not to mention the argument that followed between them for weeks. Even her own parents had weighed in, demanding that she distance herself from Harry.

Somehow, they’d managed to work their way through it, to gain a greater appreciation for each other and the culture that they came from. In fact, they’d come to such an understanding and appreciation for each other that they’d become more than friends. Not that Daphne could define _exactly_ what they were. Regardless, what they were was all but over. Harry was to leave for the dragon reserve soon.

No, not soon.

Today.

Rolling over, Daphne buried her face in her pillow, unsure whether she wanted to scream or cry. In the end she did neither.

She’d known that this day was coming. And as much as she willed it otherwise, it was always going to come, which was a large part of why she’d kissed Harry in the first place, because she knew that if she didn’t, that she’d always regret it, always wonder what it would have been like.

Sure, they’d exchanged a couple of letters already since Harry’d left Hogwarts and there were promises that letters would continue back and forth. But really, she had to wonder at the reality. Could they keep even a friendship alive over such great distance and time apart?

Instantly, Daphne threw back the covers, slid from her bed and padded across to her desk. The only way to ensure that she remained connected to Harry was to _connect_ with him, to keep writing to him and hope that he kept writing back.

Pulling a sheet of parchment to her with one hand, she grabbed a quill with the other and dipped it into the inkwell.

_Dear Harry …_

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

The dragon tooth continuously spun in his hands as he fiddled. His eyes remained fixed on this singular object. It wasn’t all that large, measuring just a little less than half the length of his hand but what it represented … _that_ was another matter altogether.

“You ready, pup?”

Instantly, Harry’s head whipped up and around even as his fist closed around the tooth and gripped it tightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he replied.

But even with that answer, he remained seated on the lounge. The way that Sirius’ expression morphed from one of excitement to something softer, gentler, one of concern told Harry that all of his own doubts had come out in his voice.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked as he moved across the room to sit beside him, a large hand coming to rest on his back.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged.

And that was the truth. He really wasn’t sure _why_ he was suddenly feeling apprehensive when, for the last month, he simply couldn’t wait to go, to leave England, to start this new adventure, to see and talk to _dragons_ again.

“Hey, it’s alright to be nervous,” Sirius said softly. “This is a big change. You’re leaving everything you know to go to a brand new place that you’ve never been to before. But you survived when you left Surrey to go to Hogwarts. And it’s not like you’re going alone, and won’t know anyone there.”

Harry looked up from the floor and attempted a smile for his godfather.

“You’re sure that you want to come with me?” he asked. “You’re still getting your life back in order after all those years … away.”

“We’ve been through this, Pup,” Sirius reminded him. “England and Magical Britain can go hang as far as I’m concerned. _You_ are the most important person in my life; where you go, I’m going too.”

Harry made a face at him.

“Not _everywhere,_ I hope.”

“Yep, everywhere!” Sirius emphasised with a nod and a great grin. “You’re never going to get rid of me. I’ll even be there when you go on _dates_.”

Instantly, Harry’s face fell. Dates. Just the word was enough to bring to mind a certain black-haired girl that had filled his mind – both waking and sleeping – for quite some time now. And there was the crux of the matter. As much as Harry was looking forward to leaving England and going to the Dragon Reserves and the amazing adventure that it would be, she was the one thing, the one person, that he was reluctant to leave.

The decision though, had been made long ago and they’d parted on extremely good terms. Of course, that didn’t stop Harry from wondering what the future may have held if he stayed, if they could have become something … more.

“You can still write to her, you know, every week or day, if you want. And there’s nothing stopping us from coming back every now and again for a visit,” Sirius said.

Harry looked up at his godfather, surprised that he’d been able to read his thoughts, and nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry replied. “I can write. And visit. And not just Daphne but all my friends – Nev and Hermione and Susan.”

“Exactly,” Sirius agreed, slapping him on the back. “Now, do you have everything?”

Harry patted his pocket where his trunk containing everything in the world that he owned was safe and secure, including Hedwig.

“Yep.”

“In that case, we better go; don’t want to arrive late and Romania _is_ two hours ahead of jolly old England.”

Together, the two stood and Harry held out the dragon tooth to his godfather. With both of them holding an end of the tooth, Harry took a final deep breath.

“Ramaranth,” he said.

Instantly, the two were whisked away in a flash of light, leaving the shores of England, destination: the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.


	2. The Speaker Has Come!

_6:45am_

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

Laughter. Snickers, full-bellied and barking. All three different types were in abundance above him as Harry lifted his head, spitting out the dirt and grass from his rough landing.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Harry snarked.

“Portkey. I did warn you,” Sirius replied, still laughing.

“At least you didn’t throw up, eh, Harry?” a vaguely-recognised voice said cheerfully.

Harry looked up and around even as he pushed himself to his feet. The man who’d spoken was mostly hidden in the glare from the sun directly over his shoulder. What the sun did highlight, though, was his red hair, making it appear as though his whole head was ablaze.

“Charlie?”

“The one and only,” Charlie Weasley said, stepping forward, grasping Harry under his arm and hoisting him to his feet.

“That was some impressive landing, son,” the owner of the great belly laugh said. “Don’t rightly think I’ve ever seen anyone spinning that fast from a portkey ride and throw themselves near ten metres away to land face first in the dirt.”

“I’m glad that I could entertain you, Mister Velios,” Harry replied sarcastically before immediately regretting speaking that way to his new boss.

Thankfully, it seemed to have been taken the right way as, once again, Alexander Velios, the Head Dragon Handler of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary burst out laughing again.

“Alexander, Mister Potter, call me ‘Alexander’. We’re going to be working together quite closely for quite some time.”

“In that case, call me ‘Harry’,” Harry replied with a smile, shaking the offered hand.

“Mister Black,” Alexander said, shaking Sirius’ hand as well.

“Sirius,” he corrected.

“Right, well, we’ll get the two of you settled and then Charlie here can give you a tour before lunch. Afterwards, the four of us’ll get together and go over a few things,” Alexander stated.

“Sounds like a plan,” Sirius nodded.

“Thanks,” Harry agreed before turning to Charlie.

“Come on, this way,” Charlie grinned, throwing an arm out in the direction of a cluster of small log cabins.

Before he’d even gone two paces, Harry thrust his hand into his pocket, letting out a sigh of relief that firstly, his miniaturised trunk was still there and secondly, that it hadn’t been damaged in his fall. Mind you, with the plethora of spells, charms and enchantments on the thing, Harry would have been quite surprised to discover otherwise.

“Now, you two said that you don’t mind sharing, right?” Charlie asked.

“Yep, we’re good,” Harry replied, having glanced at Sirius.

“Good. Only, there’s a rule here that a cabin can only be assigned to a dragon handler, or at least, someone who works for the Sanctuary,” Charlie stated. “Any family or visitors have to stay with the worker that they ‘belong’ to.”

“I’m just happy that I’ve been allowed to tag along,” Sirius said. “And technically, ‘family’ does cover it, although I’ll also be one of Harry’s tutors.”

“I know all about that, but that’s something that we’ll discuss later,” Charlie replied.

As they talked, Harry’s eyes stayed fixed on the cabins that they were approaching, taking them all in.

Most of them – maybe two dozen in all – appeared to be a simple one-story building. Not only the walls but also the roof were made of rough-hewn logs which, considering the thick forest that Harry could see surrounding the Sanctuary, made perfect sense. There were two small windows in the side and a tiny porch over the door.

Harry knew woodworking. He knew design and was quite good at eye-balling dimensions. And these cabins, he could tell, were _tiny._ Definitely far too small for a single person to live comfortably in. They looked far too small for there to even be anything more than a simple open-plan room inside with the bedroom – or at least bed against one wall – living room, dining room, everything, all in the same space. He just hoped that there a separate bathroom in there: he’d hate to have to traipse from the cabin to a communal shower block in the middle of winter, especially this far north.

“This one’s yours,” Charlie exclaimed proudly. “I’m right next door if you need me and the big building at the end of the lane,” here Charlie pointed down the stone-lined gravel path to a log building that reminded Harry of something that he’d seen in a book once of a Viking Great Hall, “is where most of the work that _isn’t_ with the dragons gets done. There’s offices at one end and the mess in the other.”

Harry merely nodded, again, not quite seeing how everything that Charlie was describing could fit in the building despite its larger size.

And then Charlie opened the door to their cabin.

“Ah,” Harry said in understanding, his jaw dropping.

Magic, of course. How had he forgotten _magic_?

Just like the trunk in his pocket, the cabin was _much_ smaller on the outside. Inside, the dimensions resembled that of an ordinary house. A rather _large_ house at that.

The front door opened into a rather large open-plan room. Much of it was a living room with a couple of large double-seater couches and single armchairs placed around a low coffee table. A fireplace built of large stones, including the chimney which he could see jutting out from the wall dominated one side of the room. The floors, as expected, were a deep, highly polished reddish-brown wood – Rosewood, Harry identified it as – which complimented the soft, cream walls quite nicely.

On the far side of the room was a small dining table with four chairs. Just beyond it, a servery sat at the bottom of a large rectangular opening in the wall. Shifting slightly to one side, Harry looked through it to see benches and cupboards and part of a stove which led him to believe that, even though most meals were most likely expected to be had in the communal mess of the Big Hall, the cabins were designed for people to cook their own food if they wanted.

“Feel free to rearrange the room if you want,” Charlie was saying. “I know that you’re going to have most of your lessons here, so you might want to make one part of the room more ‘classroom-like’.”

“I’ll keep that idea in mind,” Harry nodded.

“Bedrooms through here?” Sirius asked obviously rhetorically as he headed straight for the door-less opening set in the middle of the back wall leading further back into the cabin.

Quickly, Harry crossed the room after his godfather, interested in seeing the rest of this magically-expanded cabin.

He wasn’t disappointed. Space expansion charms seemed to be some of the most amazing magic that Harry’d ever heard of. Instantly, he decided that he needed to learn how to cast them and then apply them to his woodworking creations.

There were five doors down the hallway, two to either side and the last at the very end. The first door to the left was already open and through it, Harry could see the kitchen that he’d thought he’d seen earlier. It was larger than he’d thought, but then, he considered, the fact that one wall was mostly not there allowing easy access to the dining area over the servery probably accounted for it.

Directly opposite the kitchen was a bedroom. While it wasn’t super large, it was definitely a drastic improvement over what he’d once had at Privet Drive. A double bed was set against one wall with built in cupboards with sliding doors on the opposite wall. Between the two was a simple desk under the window and a bedside table beside the bed, leaving much of the floor space open.

A second bedroom, identical to the first sat next door to the door. And opposite that and beside the kitchen, was the bathroom. Harry was surprised to see that it even came with a bathtub as well as a shower. But then, if these were set up for families as well as the single dragon handlers, it made sense.

The final room through the door at the end of the hallway was a bit of an enigma. It spanned the length of the cabin but was only two metres wide. Currently, it was completely bare. Harry cocked his head at it, trying to imagine what it might be used for. The best that he came up with was either as a storage room or perhaps for kids to room in or play in. For now, he guessed that they’d simply leave it be.

“Which room you want, Pup?” Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged as he looked back to see his godfather lounging in the doorway of the first room.

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“Great! Then I claim this one! After all, it is closer to the kitchen,” Sirius laughed before disappearing into his newly claimed room.

“I’ll give you guys half an hour to get settled, then I’ll be back and we’ll take that tour,” Charlie said.

Harry’s eyes lit up at that. The tour. That would, without a doubt, bring him face to face with some dragons. Maybe even Ramaranth herself!

“Sounds great!” he replied.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_8:00am_

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

The small settlement, if one could call the two dozen cabins plus the Big Hall and the half dozen extra storage huts as such, was placed a fair distance from the dragons themselves. To get from one section of the Sanctuary to the other required a bit of a hike up and over a hill, through a section of dense forest that helped to screen the dragons from the humans.

“The whole Sanctuary is warded quite heavily,” Charlie was saying as he led Harry and Sirius through the forest. “It’s unplottable, of course, and has multitudes of both muggle-repelling and even wizard-repelling wards in place as well. The only place in or _out_ of the Sanctuary is right where you arrived and even that can only be done by registered portkeys.”

“That reminds me,” Sirius piped up. “I’m guessing that you’ll want this back.”

Charlie glanced at the dragon tooth that Sirius held out to him before waving it away.

“Nah, we’ve got loads of teeth as it is. Keep it.”

“But the portkey …” Harry began before Charlie interrupted.

“Used. All our portkeys are one-time affairs,” Charlie explained. “That’s nothing now but a simple dragon tooth. And a small one at that.”

“Here, Harry,” Sirius said, offering him the tooth. “Put a hole in it and a leather thong and wear it around your neck.”

Charlie nodded. “My brother, Bill, has a smaller one he wears as an earring.”

Harry stopped, his hand on a pine as he blinked at Charlie.

“Exactly how many siblings do you have?”

“Six,” Charlie replied with a grin. “You’ve met my youngest four siblings, yeah?”

Harry nodded, picturing the ones that he’d met at Hogwarts: the twins, Fred and George and Ron who was the same age as Harry himself. And then there was the youngest and apparently only girl, Ginny, who he’d never met but had only heard about as she’d died a couple of years before.

“Well, there’s also Bill; he’s the oldest of us all. Then there’s me and my next brother down, Percy. He works in the Ministry. Bit of a stick-in-the-mud, to be honest,” Charlie replied. “Come on, we’re almost there and I’m betting that there’s someone who’s anxious to see you.”

With an excited grin, Harry pushed off, quickening his pace up the final part of the hill and reached it right alongside Charlie. At the sight before him, Harry stopped dead, his jaw slackening as he took in the awesome sight before him.

If he’d been asked what he expected a dragon sanctuary to look like, he wouldn’t have been able to answer. Even in his wildest dreams, he doubted that he’d pick this. What he saw before him had him itching for a brush in his hand and a canvas before him and he knew that, before too long, he’d be here, painting the sight.

The first word that sprang to mind was that it was valley. That, though, wasn’t quite right. Canyon, might be closer. It was long, easily ten or fifteen kilometres long before it jerked sharply to the right and Harry lost sight of it. Deep, too. Currently, they were standing on the edge of a cliff that dropped a hundred metres down steep rocky cliffs at its shallowest and twice that at its deepest part. The bottom of the canyon was wide as well, easily a few hundred metres across, allowing for a bright blue river to meander through the middle of it.

All around the clifftops were the only source of green that Harry could see: forests of pines, beech, oak and elm were easily identifiable, as well as half a dozen others that Harry wanted to get a closer look at later. To the very right, however, through a sparser patch of forest, Harry thought that he could see forests of grass on rolling green hills dotted with something white.

Movement down below caught his attention and he focussed on it.

And then he saw one.

The distance made the dragon look smaller than Harry knew it to be. It had a deep bluey-grey hide making it hard to see against the cliffs. The fact that it’d emerged from a darker patch – a cave, Harry realised – hadn’t helped. But now that he’d seen one, he began to see dozens, both dragons and caves, most often, together.

“The dragons live in caves,” Harry noted.

“Good eye,” Charlie nodded. “Come on, this way. We’ll make a quick stop at one particular cave before we head back for lunch and your meeting with Alexander.”

“Um, how dangerous is it to be going down there?” Sirius asked as Charlie led them to an obviously well-trod path that snaked its way down the side of the cliff.

“Ordinarily, very,” Charlie replied, glancing back. “It’s very rare that you’ll ever find a dragon handler approaching the dragons by themselves. And we’d _never_ go into the canyon without at least five others; normally, we monitor them from brooms, well above the canyon and we’re ready to get out of there at the first sign of them taking to the air.”

“Then what are we doing?” a clearly startled Sirius asked, stopping dead in his tracks.

“Well, I’m betting on something that we’ve never had before,” Charlie replied over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“You,” Charlie grinned at him. “You can _talk_ to them. I watched you at the First Task; a bunch of us did, actually. We still can’t get over what happened that day. That single event taught us more about dragons than we’d learnt in years of working with them. And that’s why you’re here, Harry. Now, get up here and lead the way; I want you ready to tell them that we mean them no harm if they don’t like the fact that we’re here.”

Quickly, Harry changed places with Charlie before setting off down the track.

It wasn’t easy going. The path was steep and there were patches of loose scree that occasionally had their feet slipping out from under them. Harry kept his head down almost the entire way, watching his footing, thus, he was surprised when the ground suddenly flattened out.

As he stuttered to a stop, he looked back and then up, past Charlie and Sirius who were both still picking their way down the path. A low whistle escaped him as he saw exactly how far down they’d come. Instantly, he knew that he wasn’t looking forward to climbing back up there. He was glad that, back in his trunk, he had his Nimbus for future trips.

“Harry!” Sirius’ sharp, fearful, whispered warning was barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

But hear he did and immediately, his eyes darted to Sirius’ face. What he saw there was pure terror, directed at something over Harry’s left shoulder. Slowly he turned and instantly swallowed. Hard.

The very ground shook slightly as the sixty-foot-long, six tonne mass of metallic grey dragon stalked towards them. Its wings were currently mostly furled, only standing slightly away from its body, increasing the look of its bulk. But even with all of that mass of muscle behind it, it was the Ukrainian Ironbelly’s head that had Harry’s whole focus and really, why would it not? It was, after all, larger than Harry was himself!

A pair of jet-black eyes stared at him even as its lips curled back, showing teeth that were decidedly yellow and immensely sharp.

“Harry! Talk to it!” Charlie hissed. “Tell him we mean them no harm.”

_§Um, hello? My name’s Harry, Harry Potter. We’re sorry for disturbing you, we mean you no harm§._

At once, the dragon stopped, its long sinewy neck the only part of it that kept moving as it snaked towards him.

 _§You are a Speaker§!_ the Ironbelly observed, clearly surprised.

As with Ramaranth and the other dragons that Harry had spoken to back at Hogwarts during and after the First Task, he noted that the dragon had a distinct accent. This one was especially hard to understand because of it but by listening carefully, Harry was able to make out what the dragon was saying.

 _§I am§,_ Harry replied. _§Do you know Ramaranth, by any chance? I met her a number of months ago and I was hoping to see her again§?_

Harry didn’t think it was possible for the Ironbelly’s long neck to stretch any closer to him. He was wrong. As the dragon’s neck came within two armlength’s of Harry, it turned its head slightly so that Harry could all but see his own reflection in the great eye.

_§You are The Speaker§!_

Harry blinked. Even with the great voice of the massive dragon, it was easy to hear that the dragon had all but whispered the statement. Not to mention the capitalisation.

Before Harry could respond, the Ironbelly reared back onto his hind legs, stretched his neck and snout high into the sky and trumpeted. Instantly, Harry clapped his hands over his ears at the deafening sound. The great bugle went on and on for an incredibly long time, not unsurprising considering the lung capacity that a dragon that size would have.

And then, interspersed throughout the great trumpeting, Harry heard it: _§The Speaker has come! The Speaker has come! Ramaranth’s Speaker has come§!_

Even before the Ironbelly’s trumpeting had finished, they started arriving. Most came by air, soaring down the canyon, their wings spread wide, their necks extended. Others lumbered along the rocky ground, causing the very earth to shake and rocks to tumble down the cliffs. And then there were a few who simply appeared at the mouth of their cave, their great heads turned in their direction, watching.

But it wasn’t just the appearance of dozens of dragons of all sizes and breeds bearing down on them that unnerved not just Harry but the two men behind him. No, it was also the sound that accompanied them. More and more dragons joined in with the Ironbelly’s trumpeting, making a great symphony of bellows that echoed up and down the canyon, making the very rock walls sing with their music.

For it was music, Harry decided. The dragons were _happy_ , celebrating. He wasn’t sure exactly _how_ he knew that, but he did. He was certain of it.

It didn’t take long for Harry’s entire field of vision to be filled with dragons, dozens of dragons even. Looking about he found three more Ironbellys, as well as Norwegian Ridgebacks, Swedish Short-Snouts, Romanian Longhorns, Hungarian Horntails and even a lone Portuguese Long-Snout. And every single one of them was staring at him, trying to edge out their fellows to get closer, weaving in their long necks to see him.

Glancing back, Harry found that both Sirius and Charlie had retreated. Already they were nearly halfway back up the cliff and if didn’t look as though they were likely to stop anytime soon.

A _hissing_ from the back of the ‘crowd’ had dragons big and small shuffling sidewards, creating an aisle amongst them. And through this corridor, a Horntail strode, looking quite majestic and pompous. That was until she saw him and all pretence left her as she lumbered forward before coming to a sliding stop in front of him.

_§Speaker, it is truly you§._

_§Hi, Ramaranth§,_ Harry grinned. _§I did promise that I’d come visit you one day§._

 _§You did indeed, Speaker§,_ she replied. _§How long will you stay§?_

Harry looked around at all the dragons and could see the eagerness in all of them. It was their eyes, he finally decided. While it was impossible to read a dragon’s body language, their eyes were the most expressive. He was sure of it, not that he knew _how_ he knew it.

 _§I have agreed to live here for quite some time§,_ Harry told not only Ramaranth, but all of the dragons. _§The two-legs who look after you would like me to teach them about you and you about them so that you can all get on better§._

 _§You speak truly, Speaker§?_ Ramaranth replied and Harry wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.

Nevertheless, he decided to answer her anyway.

_§I do. I will even eventually be visiting all the dragons of the world where they live, to meet them and to learn about them as well§._

_§But you will spend most of your time here, in our canyon§,_ the Ironbelly that Harry had first encountered said, and again Harry was unsure if it was a question or statement.

 _§Yes§,_ Harry replied. _§I’m sorry, I do not know your name. It was very rude of me not to ask§._

The Ironbelly seemed to puff himself up, standing taller, his head lifting as well

 _§I am Grouleth§,_ he said.

Harry inclined his head. _§It is a pleasure to meet you, Glouleth. It is a pleasure to meet you all§._

All at once Harry was bombarded by dragons talking to him at the same time.

_§Speaker, Ramaranth has told us of ‘painting’, can you show us§?_

_§Speaker, you must come see my cave§._

_§I am Damrath, Speaker, we are all happy that you have come§._

_§Speaker, my hind foot has been aching, can the two-legs help§?_

_§Speaker, make the two-legs feed us more often§._

_§Enough§!_ Ramanranth bellowed, lifting herself up onto her rear two legs.

At once, the thunderous dragons stilled, their heads turning to look at the great Hungarian Horntail. And it wasn’t just the dragons that were watching her. Far above her head, on the cliffs above, it looked to Harry as though the entire complement of dragon handlers of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary were lined up, staring down at a sight that they had never seen before.

 _§The Speaker will come under my wing§,_ Ramaranth stated. _§I will escort him to my cave where he will meet my fledglings. Afterwards, I will show The Speaker our canyon§._

Instinctively, Harry knew that there would be only one correct response.

 _§I would like nothing better§,_ he replied with a bow.


	3. Settling In

_2:10pm_

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

“He’s late,” Alexander groused, not for the first or even the tenth time. “You did tell him that we were meeting straight after lunch, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, Boss, I did,” Charlie replied, fiercely keeping his desire to roll his eyes firmly in check.

“He was kinda occupied,” Sirius put in. “Those dragons had him surrounded and then the big one – Ramaranth, you said, right? – she _did_ lead him off deeper into the valley.”

“With all the other dragons following,” Charlie finished, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen dragons act like that before. Merlin, I’ve never _heard_ of dragons acting like that before.”

“True enough,” Alexander grunted. “Still, when I say there’s a meeting at one o’clock, I expect my people to be there on time, not an hour late and counting.”

“I’m not sure that dragons can tell time,” Sirius quipped.

Alexander shot the man a hard look and Charlie opened his mouth to say what he knew not, but something that would hopefully smooth things over. Alexander was, for the most part, an easy man to get along with but when it came to the smooth running of the Sanctuary, he simply had no patience for anyone not following his rules. Not that Charlie could blame him, this was a _dragon_ reserve after all, people who didn’t follow the rules more than likely ended up dead.

_“Boss!”_

The panicked yell from outside had the three seated at the table whipping their heads towards the door just as the door crashed open. The wizard standing there was wide-eyed, his chest heaving and his hair was a flying every which way.

“Boss! One of the dragons has broken from the canyon!”

“Damn!” Alexander swore, standing so quickly that his chair was knocked backwards and sent clattering to the floor. “Breed? Size? How high’s it going?”

“The wards’ll keep it from escaping,” Charlie stated, also now on his feet.

Alexander shook his head. “Those wards might be strong and can give a nasty shock to a dragon but a determined one could bust through them. Well?”

This last was said to the handler who was quickly backing out of the door as his Boss strode towards him.

“Hungarian Horntail. Fully grown. Female by the size of her,” was the reply.

“Ramaranth? Mikos, is it Ramaranth” Charlie asked urgently.

“Could be,” Mikos shrugged.

“Boss! The dragon’s headed this way!” another handler yelled.

“Wands out! Take cover!” Alexander roared, his wand already in hand even as he broke right, dashing towards the side of a building.

All around the small compound, handlers were doing the same, running for the nearest cover, be it building, tree or, in the case of one fast-thinking man, behind the stone wall that he’d just conjured all around him.

Sirius and Charlie, though, simply shared a look and Charlie could see his own thoughts mirrored in the other man’s eyes. If this was Ramaranth …

And then the great black and bronze dragon appeared from over the treetops. Her wings were outstretched, barely flapping as she soared towards them. She was easily sixty feet long, although with her tail stretched behind her and her head and neck stretched out in front, she seemed much larger. From this angle, it was easy to see her four legs tucked up against her great belly. That was until she extended them.

At the same time, the Horntail’s head swivelled down and around and seemingly targeting in on the two of them with her great yellow eye. Her wings flared and Charlie and Sirius took one last look at each other before breaking away, one left, the other right.

Wands everywhere raised taking careful aim, although, with the Horntail’s massive bulk, she would be extremely hard to miss.

It wasn’t until she’d landed right in the middle of the compound, causing the ground to shake and great clouds of dust to swirl up and around that anyone realised that there was more to this odd occurrence than they’d first thought.

The Hungarian Horntail seemed to shift awkwardly, lowering her front right side in a strange lean but the small figure that revealed itself as it shifted about _on the back of the dragon_ accounted for it. Men and women, handlers that had worked for years and in many cases decades with dragons could only stare in bewilderment as a teenaged boy awkwardly swung his leg over the back of the dragon and then slid down the mountain of black flesh, somehow missing every single bronze spike in the process.

The boy, Harry, landed roughly, stumbling and wands that had been lowered snapped back as the great dragon head twisted about to come snout to body with the teen. Everyone there could hear the hissing that was typical of dragons coming firstly from the Horntail and then from the teen. What was even more unbelievable was the way that Harry had laughed, reached out a hand and _patted_ the dragon before stepping back and giving her a short bow.

The great dragon head dipped in reply before she crouched slightly and leapt, her wings flapping hard as she fought for height. Handlers everywhere came out of hiding to watch as she twisted about and flew back towards the forest in the direction of the canyon from which she’d come.

“Harry!” Charlie called as he strode towards the boy. “Are you alright?”

“Only you, Harry, only you,” Sirius laughed as he, too, joined them.

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” a puzzled Harry replied before looking at his watch. “Damn, I’m late. Sorry about that. Good thing Ramarath gave me a lift, hey? Can you imagine how long it would have taken me to climb back up out of that canyon?”

“You rode a dragon,” Alexander stated as he joined them, his eyes fixed on Harry.

Charlie noted that their Boss wasn’t the only one staring. Near as he could tell, every one of the thirty-two dragon handlers at the Sanctuary had now surrounded them, each and every one silent and staring at the boy who had just done the impossible.

Dragons were the most dangerous creatures on the planet. It was a well-known fact. Even subduing one took, at minimum, eight wands and a good dose of luck. They weren’t creatures that _anyone_ could take lightly. You didn’t go near one by yourself. You didn’t attempt to touch one unless you _knew_ that they were unconscious and you had serious back up standing by. And you never, ever even considered sitting on one. Except in every dragon handler’s dreams, there every one of them had soared high and far.

“You rode a dragon,” Alexander repeated with a shake of his head. “How?”

“Well it wasn’t easy,” Harry replied. “Not exactly the most comfortable – I kept thinking that I was going to slip off. Thankfully Ramaranth didn’t mind when I grabbed onto the spike that was right in front of me.”

“But how’d you do it?” Demmy, one of the younger handlers, blurted. “How’d you get her to _let_ you ride her?”

“I didn’t exactly have much choice,” Harry shrugged. “She kinda insisted. And I get the impression that what Ramaranth says, Ramaranth gets.”

“She insisted?” Alexander repeated faintly before shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Right. She insisted. You, lad, are going to shake things up around here. But next time, tell us before you do something crazy and impossible like that.”

“I’ll do my best, Sir,” Harry replied. “Um, if it’s not too much trouble, could I get something to eat? I kinda missed lunch and I’m starved.”

Charlie wasn’t the only one to laugh at that.

“Sure, Potter, one condition,” Alexander replied. “You tell us about your time in the canyon this morning.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_2:40pm_

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

 “… and then I spent the rest of my time in Ramaranth’s cave,” Harry finished.

“So, you would have seen her fledglings?” Dena, Alexander’s second, asked eagerly, leaning across the table from where she sat beside the Boss.

Harry looked up and nodded as he spooned up some stew.

Currently, the entire population of the Sanctuary was surrounding the table that he was seated at. Everyone was staring at him, focussed intently on what he was saying. To be completely honest, he found it a bit disconcerting, something akin to when he first entered the Wizarding World. Or his first few weeks at Hogwarts. The fact that some of the handlers were even taking _notes_ on what he was saying was enough to make him shake his head.

“The Handbook says that at this age they’ll be starting to determine dominance,” Mikos stated, lofting a dog-eared book and waving it around.

“Handbook?” Harry asked.

“ _Dragons, the Complete Compendium,_ ” Alexander answered. “Charlie’ll get you a copy.”

“Okay, thanks,” Harry nodded. “Um, dominance? Let me think. Well, I guess you could say that there was a pecking order. Spekith definitely had the biggest personality, I’d say – barely let her brothers and sister get a word in and always wanted my attention. Painzz is the quiet one. I had to go over to her before she’d speak to me. As for Potteth and Harreth … hmm, they’re definitely somewhere int the middle, too alike to differentiate after a first meeting. Kinda like your brothers, Charlie.”

“Wait wait wait,” Sirius exclaimed, holding up his hands, his whole body turned to face Harry a look of immense amusement on his face. “Potteth? Harreth? Spekith? Painzz? _That’s_ Ramaranth’s baby’s names?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied feeling his cheeks heating up.

A couple of slaps on Harry’s shoulders accompanied the laughter that rang through the great wooden hall.

“You, lad, are going to do some good here,” Alexander said. “It’s obvious the dragons already love you. And having you to translate means that you’re going to be worth your weight in gold. Dena. Grab a crew and see about that Ridgeback’s hind foot. Left, wasn’t it, Potter?”

“Will do, Boss,” Dena said, rising from her seat.

A gesture was enough to have a team of eight following her from the room.

“Jacob,” Alexander continued. “Head down to the flocks and do a count. If the dragons are getting hungry, we better make sure none of them have been doing some ‘poaching’.”

A short, heavyset man with a great handlebar moustache nodded once and promptly disappeared along with two others.

“The rest of you know your jobs. Get to them.”

In a pack, the rest of the dragon handlers and support personnel dispersed, most out the door, although a few disappeared into different parts of the Great Hall.

“Well, you’ve definitely made an impression, Harry,” Charlie grinned at him. “Riding a dragon! Wait until that news gets around! There’s been a few parselmouths over the centuries working in one Reserve of another, but _none_ have ever attempted to _ride_ on the back of one!”

Harry stared at Charlie’s bemused and shaking head. Apparently, what he’d just taken as a quick, awkward way of getting up out of the canyon was a bigger deal than he’d realised.

Alexander slid the folder that was in front of him across the table to Harry who took it, pushing away his now finished bowl in the process.

“Your schedule,” Alexander said simply. “You can go through it properly later. In basic terms, your mornings are for the Sanctuary. Charlie here’ll be your Master.”

“Master?” Harry asked quickly, looking up from the opened folder.

“Yeah, Charlie’s the Master, you’re his Apprentice. Means he’s the one responsible for teaching you how the Sanctuary works, the tricks of the trade, everything that you need to know to work with dragons,” Alexander replied. “If you’ve got a problem, go to him. But if everything goes the way we expect, you’ll finish our contract with a Magical Beasts Master Certificate under your belt.”

“What about when Harry goes to the other Reserves?” Sirius asked.

“Charlie’ll be going with you,” Alexander replied. “Which is a bonus for us as well. He’ll be learning about the types of dragons that we don’t have here and will bring that knowledge back to share with us. He’ll also help to tie the Reserves closer together.”

“And my afternoons are for my lessons?” Harry asked, looking at the piece of parchment that detailed his timetable.

“And evenings, too,” Alexander nodded. “’Cause this is just how we’d like things to go. If situations crop up, then it’ll get altered, sometimes with little to no warning.”

“I believe the muggle expression is ‘never work with animals or kids’,” Charlie said.

Harry blinked at him. “That’s in showbusiness. But I get your point. Animals, _dragons_ don’t work to a schedule. Like today when I was supposed to be back here for lunch but ended up being really late.”

“That’s it exactly, lad,” Alexander beamed. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to follow my rules as much as possible – you work for us, not the dragons.”

“You sure about that, Boss?” Charlie grinned.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_4:55pm_

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

For the most part, Harry’s magical trunk which now sat in the middle of the wall across from his desk, had been unpacked. Most of his clothes had been hung in the cupboard or placed in the shelves that he’d found on the left side of the cupboard behind the sliding doors. Above the inside of the door to his room, Harry had found a pair of short, wooden poles – the perfect place to store his Nimbus Two Thousand.

The desk, Harry’d decided, had had to move. No longer was it situated directly under the window. Now, it was off to one side, still allowing a view if he sat at it but also ensuring that there was plenty of room for a very special someone.

“This is a brand new country,” Harry said, stroking Hedwig’s chest as she sat on the perch that he’d built for her. “There’s no telling if there are other owls around or dangers that you’re not used to, so be careful going out there. Oh, and keep away from the dragons – I don’t think they’d try to eat you, but better safe than sorry.”

Hedwig gave a soft _prekk_ and nipped at his ear. Then, with a short hop, she jumped, spread her wings and soared out through the open window.

Turning about, Harry took in his room. It still felt very bare to him, even with the perch, trunk and broom in their places. With a quick decisive nod, he crossed to his ebony trunk, opened the third compartment and raced down the stairs. Within minutes he was back, two pieces of furniture in his hands. The bedside table went between bed and desk while a focussed, wandless sticking charm was used to apply the shelf to the wall above his bed.

One more trip down and back up had the last of the items that he was after at that moment – his carving tools, a handful of different types of small blocks of wood and the figurine of Ramaranth that he’d once carved. All were placed on the shelf above his bed, so as to be close to hand in case he wanted to do some carving at any point.

The figurine had been a last minute decision. Normally, it resided in the special cabinet that he’d made and attached to the wall of his workshop with all of his other figurines. But after a moment’s consideration, he decided to have it up here – after all, there was not a shred of doubt in his mind that a whole host of dragon figurines would soon be carved to add to his collection.

“Unpacked?” Sirius asked.

“Still want to bring up my easel and some paints, but that can wait until tomorrow,” Harry replied, glancing across at his godfather lounging against the doorframe.

“Good, come on out and we can fill in the rest of your timetable with your subjects for each day,” Sirius said.

“Magical as well as normal,” Harry reminded him.

Sirius simply nodded before stepping out of the way and leading Harry to the dining room table. There, Harry found two pieces of parchment, one much smaller than the other.

“My timetable?” Harry asked, head cocked as he touched the largest piece.

“Yep. Well, it will be,” Sirius replied. “Basically, it’s an enlarged copy of the one that Alexander gave you, but with enough room now to fill in timeslots for the subjects that you agreed to take in the Contract that you signed.”

This last was said as Sirius pointed to said contract – the second piece of parchment on the table.

“You’ve already put some thought into this,” Harry noted.

The timetable had columns for all seven days of the week with every morning blocked out with the words ‘Dragon Stuff’ written across them. Monday to Friday afternoons were divided up into two, two-hour blocks, the first from one until three; the second from three thirty until five thirty. There was also a block in the evenings between seven and eight thirty.

“I thought that you could do two magical subjects every afternoon and then one of your muggle subjects in the evening. Weekend afternoons and evenings are free time or catch up,” Sirius suggested. “What do you think?”

“I don’t see a problem with it,” Harry replied. “But what about my tutors? Do we know who they are or even if this will work for them?”

“Apart from Remus – who should be arriving the day after tomorrow – I don’t have a clue who the Reserves have hired for you,” Sirius replied. “But I can’t see it being a problem, after all, Alexander gave you this set up, so you’d assume that he’d worked something out with whoever he’s hired already.”

Harry nodded absently as he ran his eye down the list of magical subjects on his contract. There was nothing there that was new to him, not after his spending the past year at Hogwarts studying them. Most of them he’d really enjoyed, like Ancient Runes, Charms and Transfiguration. Others, like History of Magic and Astronomy were okay as far as he was concerned, but not something that he loved. The rest – Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy – fell somewhere in the middle.

“Obviously, Remus and I’ll fit in around the others,” Sirius continued. “And the fact that we’re going to be teaching you two subjects each should make it easy for us as well. But I was thinking that we spread out your wand classes so you only have one of them a day.”

“Makes sense,” Harry nodded. “Uh, Sirius? You’ve got five evenings blocked out for my normal subjects but I’m only taking four – Art and Design, Fine Arts, Mathematics and Biology.”

“I figured that you could you the extra one as a spare in case something comes up. Or for your language classes,” Sirius replied.

“Languages, right,” Harry replied, only just then remembering that there was a clause in his contract saying that he was required to learn the four main languages of the different Reserves around the world. “Forgot about them.”

Over the next quarter of an hour, the two of them debated which slots to assign to each subject. After all, if they were asked for their preferences – which they assumed was quite likely – they actually wanted to be able to answer the question. Finally, they had something that they were both happy with.

“Right, that’s done,” Sirius said as he finally laid his quill down. “And just in time, too – it’s just about time for dinner and I’ve been told that it’s the one meal that everyone around here is required to attend.”

“But I had a late lunch,” Harry half-protested. “I’m really not all that hungry.”

Sirius gave him a non-plussed look. “I thought you were supposed to be a teenaged boy? And they’re always hungry!”

Then, before he could reply or dodge, Harry felt Sirius’ hand close around his bicep, yank him to his feet and pull him towards the door.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_6:35pm_

_Tuesday, 25 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

Introductions, names and faces, had come at a steady pace all through dinner. Every single person who worked at the Sanctuary, it seemed, had made it their duty to come over to talk to them. From beside him, Charlie had done an amazing job with the introductions but by the fifth, Harry had already been feeling overwhelmed; by the tenth, names had begun to blur and faces to jumble.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Charlie whispered, leaning close as the last of them – as far as Harry could tell – left to return to their own seat. “It might seem that there’s a lot of us, but really, there isn’t.”

“There might not be a lot compared to Hogwarts or something,” Harry countered, “but I’ve got more than just _human_ names and faces to memorise.”

Charlie cocked his head at him, a puzzled expression on his face.

“ _Dragons_ , Charlie, dragons,” Harry explained. “I had dozens of them telling me their name this afternoon as well. And I do _not_ want to find out what an insulted dragon is like if I forget their names or get them wrong.”

“He’s got a point,” Sirius said from Harry’s other side.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Charlie agreed. “Never thought of it like that – it’s not like we’ve ever known the dragon’s names in the first place in order to have to learn them. That’ll be something for all of us to learn, something that you’ll have to teach us.”

The idea of making some kind of book with every dragon’s name and description or better yet, a photo, flashed into Harry’s mind, but before he could pursue it, a loud knocking on the table that Alexander was now standing at interrupted him.

“Right, you lot, listen up,” Alexander said causing the Hall to quiet within moments. “I’ll start tonight’s announcements with giving a Welcome to the Sanctuary to Harry Potter and his godfather Sirius Black. If you haven’t already done so, make sure you introduce yourselves before you leave here tonight. Lad, you’ve already proven to us that we made the right choice in getting you here and you’ve already done two things that we never thought possible with dragons by going into their Canyon alone and then _riding_ _on the_ _back of one_. We look forward to working with you.”

The Hall instantly erupted with not only applause but also with whistles and yells of welcome and encouragement.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alexander said after a minute and once again, the Hall quickly settled for him. “Assignments for tomorrow. Nothing new apart from the fact that Charlie here’s now got himself an Apprentice. But if things go the way I expect, be prepared for things to change up as we start learning more about our dragons. That’s it from me. Delilah?”

A woman who looked to be in either her late twenties or early thirties with long, light brown hair and a slim figure rose with a bundle of envelopes in her hand which she held up for all to see.

“Delilah’s pretty much in charge of a lot of the daily running of the Sanctuary,” Charlie explained quietly.

“But I thought Alexander was in charge,” a confused Harry said.

At that, Charlie shook his head. “Alexander’s in charge of the Sanctuary in terms of the _dragons_. Delilah looks after all the other stuff that keeps things running smoothly – food, housekeeping – we don’t have any house elves here – portkeys, correspondence, …”

“Correspondence?” Sirius asked. “Don’t owls just bring their letters straight to whoever it’s for?”

“Not here,” Charlie replied. “Too dangerous to us _and_ the owl. Just think what it’d be like if we were working with a dragon when an owl turned up. Either we’d get distracted and potentially hurt or the owl would get eaten. No, all mail goes to Delilah, both in and out and she hands them out once a day.”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry looked up, blinking.

“Harry, you’ve got a letter, come up and get it,” Delilah called.

“I’ve got a letter? But I only just arrived,” Harry protested even as he was pushing his chair back to get up.

“I’m guessing you’re going to want this one,” Delilah said with a huge grin on her face. “It’s obviously been sent by express portkey and the writing … that’s a girl’s handwriting if ever I saw it.”

A few jokes were already being thrown Harry’s way at Delilah’s comments but when she lifted the letter up to her nose and _smelt_ it, the whole room, it seemed joined in on the teasing.

“Thanks,” Harry said as he took the letter.

He knew that his face was red and that he’d all but run the last few steps but the moment that he’d glanced down at the writing on the front, he didn’t care. He recognised it. Delilah was right, it _was_ a girl’s.

_Daphne_ , Harry thought.


	4. Come Fly With Me

_5:50am_

_Wednesday, 26 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as Harry trudged up the hill behind Charlie. Exactly _why_ he was walking instead of flying, he wasn’t sure, especially as he had his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. But apparently, this was how it was done to ‘wake you up and get your blood pumping ready for the day’.

Right at the top, under the trees where he’d first seen the great canyon the day before, Charlie stopped and rested his own broom against a trunk.

“Right, first things first,” Charlie said. “ _Dragons, the Complete Compendium._ This is everything that every dragon handler throughout history has learnt about dragons. It covers everything about dragons – different breeds, keeping them healthy, different illnesses and what to do, even what to do with the body if one dies, if you can think of it, it’s in here. Read it, learn it. Most of us can all but recite it from memory.”

From his pocket, Charlie pulled out a miniaturised book and tapped it with his wand, turning it into an exact replica of the Handbook that Harry had seen last night. Well, not _exactly_ a replica. This was a brand-new copy; Miko’s was old, the edges folded up, the pages all dog-eared and the spine all-but cracked in two.

“Thanks,” Harry said, taking the book.

He took a moment to flick through it before noting that Charlie was waiting for him to pay attention again. Passing his hand over the book, Harry closed his eyes and _felt_ his magic, just as Professor Flitwick had told him to. Instantly, the book responded, shrinking down to one sixth of its size and allowing him to stuff it into the pocket of his jeans.

“You, Harry, are just full of surprises,” Charlie stated with a shake of his head. “Wandless, wordless magic at your age with less than a year of magical training under your belt. Right, moving on.

“The first task every morning here at the Reserve is a flyby over the Canyon. This gives us a chance to have a basic look at all of the dragons, check that there aren’t any problems. After that, we give the okay to those in charge of feeding the dragons to open a section of the wards and allow the dragons out of the canyon for them to go down to the paddocks.”

Harry frowned and cocked his head at that.

“You have to open wards for the dragons to come out of the canyon? But Ramaranth brought me back yesterday without you doing anything to the wards,” Harry questioned.

“And here’s your first big dragon reserve secret,” Charlie said, stepping forward, laying one hand on Harrys’ shoulder and looking him intently in his eyes. “These reserves are almost a myth. Sure, we have wards up to stop not only muggles from stumbling upon us and from magicals getting in and gaining access to the dragons. But the dragons themselves? The wards might give them a bit of sting and encourage them to stay where we’d like them, but if they really want, they can get out. We’re certain that they only stay because they not only know that there’s a steady supply of food here but also because they know how dangerous it is out there.”

“But not all dragons live in reserves, do they?” Harry asked.

“No, not all,” Charlie replied. “There’s a handful that live in remote parts of the world, away from humans. But we keep an eye on them as well. At least as best as we can. Mind you, with you joining our ranks, that job might just become a little easier, seeing as you can talk to them.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” Harry grinned at him.

“Exactly, Harry, exactly,” Charlie laughed, slapping him on the back before grabbing his broom. “Right, sun’s getting higher which means there’ll be light starting to reach the bottom of the canyon. Our job is to fly from one end to the other and back again. Nice and slow, don’t want to miss anything. Ready?”

Quickly, Harry righted his broom and mounted, barely managing to take to the air a fraction of a second behind Charlie.

Together, the two flyers set off over the canyon, with Harry finding that his attention was being split between looking down while at the same time making sure to be aware of where Charlie was so that he kept up and didn’t fly off the wrong way or the wrong speed.

With the sun still low, the canyon was still mostly dark making it difficult to actually differentiate between shadows and the cliff faces themselves. All Harry knew was that he was supposed to be looking for the dragons and specifically, for any problems with them that had developed overnight. Not that he knew what that looked like. He assumed that if there was something, that Charlie would not only point it out but explain what the problem was.

Finally, his eyes began adjusting to the dark and he saw his first movement of the morning right up against the left cliff-face. There wasn’t the bulk that he would expect from the body of a dragon, so he could only assume that it was a head? And then it tilted upwards towards them and Harry caught sight of a glint of a dragon eye.

And then, unexpectedly, the dragon came charging out of its cave, its mighty wings unfurling the instant that there was room. A few extra steps was enough for the wings to beat downwards and the dragon to take flight, before quickly angling upwards directly towards them.

“Merlin!” Charlie swore, his broom jerking upwards erratically. “That’s not normal. Harry! We need to get out of here, away from the canyon!”

But as urgently as Charlie was barking orders, it was a different voice that had captured Harry’s attention.

_§ Speaker! You have returned. Are you here to see more of our valley§?_

“It’s alright, Charlie, he’s not going to hurt us,” Harry said quickly before switching to parseltongue. _§Good morning, Great One. I do want to see more of your home§._

The dragon wheeled about in the sky, his wings outstretched as he soared, his head now level with Harry on his broom.

_§ You honour me, Speaker. My name is Dirzath§, _the dragon said. _§May I fly with you§?_

_§ Of course, Dirzath§,_ Harry replied. _§You and your friends can fly with me anytime§._

Apparently, that was the exact right thing to say, for what looked to Harry like a smile appeared on the great Ironbelly’s face. And then Dirzath let loose with a trumpeting bugle that echoed up and down the canyon.

“Harry?” Charlie asked, his voice warbling as much as his broom was wobbling in the sky.

“It’s okay, Charlie. This is Dirzath,” Harry said, indicating their flying companion.

“And that bellow?” Charlie asked.

Harry laughed. “He’s happy. And letting the rest of the canyon know that we’re up here.”

“And let me guess, inviting them all to join us?” Charlie asked.

“Not exactly,” Harry replied. “That was their own idea.”

Up and down the canyon, dragons were appearing from the caves. Some came slowly, others came charging out much like Dirath had done. But no matter how they appeared, what they all had in common was that within seconds, they’d taken to the air. Dragons of all sizes and types filled the canyon, a great flight of them, soaring towards them and taking up formation around the two wizards – to either side, above, behind, in front of them and below.

And as each dragon arrived, they called a greeting to Harry or trumpeted their welcome. And then the dragons in front of them and below shifted, creating a ‘hole’ in the air in front of them and a passage from below to that spot.

_§ Ramaranth§!_ Harry called happily. _§And you brought your fledglings. Good morning, Spekith, Harreth, Potteth, Painzz§._

_§ Give the Speaker your greetings, little ones, §_ Ramaranth instructed.

The air was filled with four baby dragons chirping away and Harry could only laugh at their enthusiasm for being up in the sky with their brethren.

“Um, Harry, it looks to me if all the dragons are here,” Charlie said, nervously eyeing the Longhorn that had its head bobbing up and down less than an arm’s length from him as it rose and fell in its flight. “I can see that there aren’t any problems. We probably don’t need to do this flight today.”

Harry looked at the dragon handler amusedly. “You want to tell them that?”

Charlie’s Adam’s apple visibly moved up and down as he swallowed, looking around at the flight of dragons surrounding them.

“Ah, perhaps not,” he replied, fervently shaking his head.

_§ Speaker, is today a day we can feast§?_ Dirath asked, sounding hopeful.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_12:50pm_

_Wednesday, 26 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

“Moony!” Sirius boomed, his arms outstretched. “You’re finally here!”

“Hello, Sirius,” Remus replied with a bemused smile on his face. “You’re looking well.”

“And why shouldn’t I? I’m away from all those stuffy fuddy-duddies back in England and in a _dragon reserve_ of all places with my godson.”

“And where is Harry?” Remus asked, looking about the cabin that Sirius was ushering him into and seeing no sign of said teen.

Sirius merely waved a hand towards where Remus had noted a forested hill to be when he arrived. “Off with his dragons. Or is that the dragons are with their Harry?”

Remus blinked at the odd non-sequitur.

“Care to explain that?”

“Well, I guess the easiest way to explain it is to tell you about yesterday,” Sirius began. “Harry went down to where the dragons are, to see the one that he met in the First Task, you know, Ramaranth, the one that he painted a picture of.”

“Yes, I remember,” Remus nodded.

“You should have seen it, Moons. He went down into that canyon and within seconds he was being mobbed! Dozens of dragons flocked to him, all wanting to get close to him. And the noise! Every one of them was, well, Harry says that they were talking to him, but to the rest of us it just sounded like a whole lot of hissing and roars and stuff. It was _hours_ before he came back. And get this. He was _riding on Ramaranth’s back_!”

Once again, Remus blinked and it was only when he felt a small amount of drool beginning to run down his chin that he managed to snap his jaw back into place.

“Humans don’t ride dragons,” was the only thing that Remus could think to say.

“Yeah, well, that’s not true for our Pup!” Sirius beamed.

“Okay, I think I understand what you’re saying,” Remus replied, shaking his head. “And you say that he’s with the dragons now?”

“Yep. He’s due back later. I think Alexander, the head dragon handler’s, with him this time. Young Charlie Weasley had that honour this morning. Almost came back a gibbering mess.”

“I think I’m going to need to see Harry with these dragons of his for myself sometime,” Remus stated. “Until then, I’m hoping that you can tell me what my lodging arrangements are?”

The fact that Sirius began looking anywhere but at him had Remus instantly on edge.

“Padfoot? You told me that you’d arranged a place for me to stay.”

“Well, it was more that I had every intention of having it sorted before you got here,” Sirius said, before continuing in a rush. “And I have a solution. You’ll stay here!”

Remus narrowed his eyes at his life-long friend. He knew Sirius. He always had the best of intentions – there was never any doubt about that – but practically … in practice Sirius had this annoying habit of always leaving things until the very last moment. Impulsive, that’s what he was. Most likely, he’d thought that arranging things today would be good enough and had promptly found that things didn’t work out the way he’d thought they would.

Instead of berating him at that moment, Remus decided to wait until he knew all the facts. With that in mind, he began exploring the cabin. Obviously, there was no place out here in this expanded common area for him to sleep, so he headed for the hallway in the middle of the back wall.

To one side were the kitchen and bathroom. To the other were two bedrooms. The first had a pair of beds, one each against an opposing wall with a small bedside table beside them and a single desk under the window in the middle. On the opposite wall was an inbuilt cupboard. With a sigh at what he knew he was seeing, Remus left that room to look at the final two doors.

The next room along was obviously Harry’s, judging by the distinctive trunk and carved figurines on the shelf above the bed. Closing that door, he went to the final room at the end of the hallway. This one was small, barely wide enough for a bed, if one was happy to have a smaller-than-average sized bed. Still …

“I’ll take this room,” he stated, knowing that Sirius was standing right behind him.

“What? But … but … but that’s not a room,” Sirius spluttered. “It’s barely big enough to be classed as a kid’s playroom. No, I’ve got you set up in with me. It’ll be just like back at Hogwarts.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Remus replied dryly.

“What? We had a fantastic time at Hogwarts!” Sirius protested.

“Most of the time, yes,” Remus replied. “But there’s no way that I’m putting up with your snoring _again_.”

“Snoring? Moi? You, Sir, have the wrong person!”

Deciding that it was simply easiest to ignore Sirius when he was in that sort of mood, Remus dropped his bag just inside his new room and headed back towards Sirius’ room.

“Now, while I’m moving the bed and the desk,” Remus said and ploughed right over the top of Sirius’ spluttering protests, “you can tell me more about Harry and how his schooling is going to work.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_8:35pm_

_Wednesday, 26 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

The frown on Harry’s face told anyone that could see it that he wasn’t happy. The way that he was cocking his head first one way and then another, not to mention pacing a few steps to one side, pausing, shaking his head and then taking a few more steps in a different direction before repeating confirmed it. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of moving from spot to spot, a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

_Perfect_ , he thought.

And then, to ensure that he didn’t lose it, he slowly pulled his wand, taking a careful four steps back as he did so.

_“Colovaria!”_ he intoned, imagining the precise Weasley-red of Charlie’s hair at the same time.

A beam of red magic left his wand, striking the green grass and changing its colour just as he wanted. Two quick precise swishes produced a red ‘X’. After that, it was a simple matter to pull his shrunken easel from his pocket and enlarge it, placing it precisely on the spot that he’d marked before adding one of his larger blank canvases.

A small table was added to the side, one of his own making. This one had one drawer that held his brushes, another for his palettes and a third that contained his chalks and charcoals. The top of the table was actually slightly sunken leaving a rail around its top to keep his various bottles and tubes of paints in place and easy to see and reach at the same time.

Magic, Harry truly believed, was amazing. It allowed him to carry all that he needed so effortlessly and easily, especially when he could shrink it all small enough to fit in his pockets and then quickly return them to their original size with almost nothing but a thought.

Now that he was all set up, Harry stepped just in front of his easel, considering the view once again.

From here on the clifftop, much of the canyon could be seen, giving a sweeping, majestic view. The fact that dozens of dragon caves, not to mention quite a number of the dragons currently sunning themselves in the last rays of the sun could also be seen only added to it.

Movement caught his eye and he shifted his gaze to find the black and bronze of a Hungarian Horntail contrasting perfectly with the orange-tinted sky as it flew by.

With a gasp, Harry let go of the dragon tooth, adorned with a carving of the claw mark with the stylized ‘R’ of the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, that now hung from his neck by a leather thong that he’d been absently fiddling with and raced back around his easel.

Within seconds, a piece of chalk was in his hand and his hand was moving in quick, precise movements as he began capturing the scene before him.

So engrossed was he in his task that he barely even took note when three dragons landed quietly around him, their great necks extending to watch what he was doing.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_7:20pm_

_Wednesday, 26 July 1995_

_Minster for Magic’s Office, Ministry of Magic, London, England_

.

The evening edition of _The Daily Prophet_ was all but scrunched into a ball before being thrown across the room at the fireplace. Unfortunately, Cornelius Fudge had never been particularly athletic, let alone a quidditch player and thus, the paper ball, while making the required distance, was off the mark, striking the mantle above and knocking a photo of the Minister standing with the Ministers of Magic for Bulgaria and France to the floor and shattering the glass.

Thankfully, the short, stubby wand of his Undersecretary, Delores Umbridge, was out in a flash. A quick _reparo_ put things to right before Delores picked up the photo and returned it to its rightful place.

“How could this happen?” Cornelius asked himself, his Undersecretary and the room at large as he waved his arms around. “And why is this now _our_ fault.”

“As much as we might not like it, the public do not always see matters correctly and in the way that we, their superiors, do,” Delores replied. “It is our job to steer the misguided back onto the proper path and show them the way in which we wish them to think.”

Cornelius all but ignored her, used to her flowery way of speaking. Long ago, he’d learnt that she had a way of saying absolutely nothing even though the words she used gave one the impression that it was the most important piece of information in the world. Ordinarily, the people ate it up and fell into line, not questioning things that they shouldn’t. Which was precisely why he kept her around.

“How were we supposed to control Harry Potter? The-Boy-Who-Lived’s a ruddy _teenager_!” Cornelius continued. “And everyone knows that _they_ have an infuriating habit of doing the complete opposite of whatever an adult tells them to do.”

“One would have expected the boy to be grateful to us,” Delores agreed in her high, girly, simpering voice. “After all, we practically gave him everything that he wanted: his emancipation, not to mention the right to defer enrolling in Hogwarts for a year. We even backed him on his ridiculous assertion that he didn’t have to dress as a respectable wizard. And offered him a job with proper, British dragons if that was what he desired.”

“Teenagers! Huh!” Cornelius continued. “That’s Hogwart’s domain. Dumbledore should have seen this coming and headed him off at the pass. But no, the man had to go and drop the quaffle on this one and let Potter leave the country. To work in a dragon reserve of all places! If anyone’s to blame, it’s Dumbledore, not us, not the Ministry. And certainly not me!”

“Precisely, Minister,” Delores agreed.

It was only then that something that his Undersecretary had said registered. Stopping in his pacing, he slowly turned towards her.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I was agreeing with you, Minister,” Delores replied sweetly.

“No, no, before that,” Cornelius said, waving that reply away. “You said something about British dragons.”

“Yes, Minister. I was commenting on the fact that if Potter truly wished to work with _dragons_ , then he should have accepted our offer to work for the Ministry,” Delores replied. “We even created a whole new Subcommittee within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Animals just to ensure that he would stay within Britain, an invitation that Potter didn’t even have the courtesy to answer, if my information is correct.”

“What was it again? The Subcommittee for Dragons?” Cornelius asked.

“The Subcommittee for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain,” Delores corrected gently. “Of course, we have since disbanded the Subcommittee, reincorporated its resources back into the Department where they belong.”

Cornelius’ eyes flicked to the crumpled _Daily Prophet_ lying on his carpet. The latest article decrying the loss of The-Boy-Who-Lived and the way the people of Great Britain were angry at their abandonment of him had detailed what was known of the contract that Harry Potter had accepted. _All_ dragon reserves of the world. That was who he was employed with. And there was one word in that that was running over and over through Cornelius’ mind at that precise moment. _All_.

“Delores, who was in charge of that Subcommittee for Dragons?” he asked

“I believe that we had placed Mathilda Grimblehawk as Chair. A witch with ambition but little actual experience, I understand,” she replied.

_All_.

“Get her in my office first thing in the morning and clear the rest of my appointments for the day,” Cornelius ordered. “If we’re going to fix this and get Harry Potter back in England where he belongs and get the people happy again and stop them from making any more noises for my resignation, then we need to get on top of this and do things properly. And this Mathilda Grimblehawk might just be the witch that we need to accomplish that.”


	5. The Council Speaks

_10:15am_

_Friday, 28 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

The sound of jaws snapping behind him had Harry twisting about. The fact that the dragon that his gaze pierced instantly froze in place, one front leg raised and her mouth wide told him that she knew exactly what she was doing.

_§ Speketh§,_ Harry said warningly.

_§ But Speaker§,_ the fledgling replied, _§it looks so fun to play with§._

Harry’s eyes darted to the magical tape that was flitting around Painzz while the enchanted quill took notes, Obviously, the way the tape was flying about, measuring different parts of her sister emulated an insect or a bird, definitely something that would warrant a dragon’s natural instinct to snap at and – hopefully – eat.

_§ Just a little longer§,_ Harry told the eldest of the four. _§The tape should be just about finished measuring Painzz so that I can see exactly how big she is. And I’m mostly through my measurements of Potteth. As soon as we’re done, we can go play§._

_§ Yes, Speaker§,_ Speketh replied but Harry noticed that her eyes never once left the tape as it moved about.

Turning back to his own task, Harry tapped Potteth on his side, reminding the fledgling that he was in the process of measuring how wide his wingspan was. Instantly, the wing that had half-furled snapped back out to full stretch.

Ordinarily, Charlie’d told him, this was a task that would involve no less than four dragon handlers. And their first task would have been to stun all of the fledglings before they’d even begun. And even then, one of the handlers would have been tasked with keeping a careful watch at the mouth of the cave to ensure that neither their mother – in this case Ramaranth – or any other dragon, came near while the others were getting the measurements as quickly as they could.

Today, though, Charlie had simply grinned, slapped Harry on the back and handed him the equipment, sending him off to do the job all by himself.

“You’re the Speaker, aren’t you? Not to mention a sort of surrogate uncle to those fledglings,” Charlie’d said. “I’m sure you won’t have any problems.”

_Snap_!

Harry spun, expecting to see the magical tape cut in two by sharp dragon teeth. But that hadn’t happened; the tape was still happily doing its job, in this case, measuring the length of Painzz’s tail. His eyes darted to Spekith and, seeing the end of a feather dangling from her snout, he sighed and looked across the cave.

_§ Spekith§, _Harry said, trying hard to keep his voice even, _§I needed that quill§._

_§ I’m sorry, Speaker. It was too tempting and you’d said not to eat the flying worm-thing§._

The sound of Harreth’s hissing laugh did not help matters.

_§ I guess that I can do the rest by hand§, _Harry sighed, _§but we won’t have as much time now to go flying together§._

The light from the entrance to the cave disappearing combined with the sound of heavy footsteps turned Harry’s head. But instead of Ramaranth, who he expected, it was a Ukrainian Ironbelly blocking the entrance.

_§ Grouleth§?_ Harry questioned after his eyes had adjusted enough to the dim light to let him recognise the first dragon that he’d met when he’d first arrived here. _§Is something wrong? Did Ramaranth send you§?_

_§ No, Speaker§, _Grouleth rumbled in his deep voice. _§I was sent to bring you to the Weyr Council§._

Harry blinked and cocked his head at the unfamiliar term. ‘Weyr’, he knew was the dragon’s name for their group that lived here at the Sanctuary. But ‘Council’? That didn’t make sense at all. He’d never picked up on their being an official hierarchy amongst the dragons, let alone something like a … a government?

The fact that all four fledglings had stilled, their eyes appearing larger than normal as they stared between the Ironbelly and Harry told him that they, at least, knew what this Council was and that they knew that it was a big deal

_§ What Council, Grouleth§? _Harry asked, deciding that gathering more information was required, and quickly at that.

_§ Come, Speaker, you will see§,_ Gouleth replied.

_§ Can it wait until I’m finished here§? _Harry asked.

_§ No, Speaker§, _Grouleth replied, moving his great head from side to side. _§You may return here and complete your task after. The Council must come first§._

Harry’s eyebrows all but disappeared under his fringe at hearing that. Here was the first time that his wishes hadn’t been followed by any dragon. Whatever this was, it was huge. A tiny part of him considered stalling and letting Charlie or one of the other Handlers know what was going on but his curiosity was simply overpowering that feeling.

_§ Alright§, _Harry said, snatching up the two pieces of tape – the one that he was using and the one still moving about Painzz – and the parchment and stuffing them into his bag. _§Lead on, then§._

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_10:40am_

_Friday, 28 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

At Grouleth’s urging, Harry found himself walking into one cave that seemed no different or special than any other.  The only thing that _might_ be considered special was the fact this particular cave was one of the very last ones in the valley and that it was the farthest cave from the human settlement at that. That was, of course, until he’d walked ten, twenty, _thirty_ metres into the cave with still no end in sight.

Really, ‘cave’ was a misnomer. _Tunnel_ would be more accurate.

The fact that not only Grouleth but also the four fledglings were following him didn’t help either. Conjuring one of his balls of light and willing it to follow just above and behind him solved the problem of not being able to see where he was going.

It felt like ages but could really have only been no more than ten minutes of steady walking before the tunnel ahead started to become lighter. Unconsciously, Harry’s steps quickened. That was before he stepped out of the tunnel. What he found stopped him dead.

Cave was too small a word. Cavern really wasn’t much better. Amphitheatre in the middle of a mountain might be the closest that he could come up with.

And it was. A great big domed space that stretched up so high that Harry couldn’t actually see the roof from where he was standing at the bottom. The walls, though, weren’t perfectly smooth. Instead, there were dozens and dozens of ledges all around. And on each and every one rested a dragon.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure exactly where the light was coming from. His best guess was some sort of strange crystal embedded haphazardly into the walls all around the chamber. Whatever it was, the soft golden glow that each produced provided more than enough light to see by.

A nudge in his back propelled him forward before he stumbled to a stop. The flap of wings beating down behind him accompanied by the gust of air that ruffled his clothes told him that Grouleth had taken to the air, quickly followed by the fledglings.

Eyes wide, Harry turned in a circle to take it all in.

Dragons of every size and species found at the Reserve peered down at him, their great eyes all fixed on him. Harry didn’t need to count; every dragon in the Reserve was obviously present.

_§ Speaker, we welcome you§._

Harry turned to his left to find the largest Hungarian Horntail that he’d ever seen stepping forward from where he’d just stepped from one of the lowest ledges.

_§ Great One§, _Harry said, giving a bow while ensuring that he also dropped his eyes.

This was one dragon that Harry had never encountered at the Sanctuaary and before this, he would have sworn that he’d met every dragon that lived here.

_§ May I enquire what your name is§? _Harry continued.

_§ I am Memzath§, _the dragon replied, lowering his head until the bottom of his snout all but rested on the ground and even then, the top of Harry’s head was still nearly a metre below Memzath’s eye.

_§ What is this place? Why am I here§?_ Harry asked

Memzath lifted his head, his neck curving up before his head twisted to look back down at the single human.

_§ This is the Weyr Council§, _Memzath replied. _§It is here that the good of the Weyr is determined§._

Harry blinked at the Horntail. This was completely foreign territory. While he’d known that the dragons were intelligent, with him being the only parselmouth at the Reserve, no one really knew much about the social structure of the dragons that lived here. Or in any of the Reserves around the world.

_§ And you are here, Speaker, because you do, in fact, Speak. You are Speaking to us but before you may Speak for us, we need to be certain that you will Speak the words that we want§_, Memzath stated.

Once again, Harry wasn’t sure exactly what to say. In the end, he decided that he could only try to assure not only Memzath but all the dragons here that he could be trusted.

_§ I have only ever wanted to be your friend§, _he said. _§Even from when I first met Ramaranth and the others at the TriWizard Tournament, I never wanted to hurt dragons or do anything that you would not like§._

A short bugle from high to his left had both Harry and Memzath turning to look.

_§ Speak, Ramaranth§, _Memzath commanded.

_§ I vouch for the Speaker and the truth of his words§, _she stated.

Four tiny bugles from around her told Harry that her fledglings were adding their support for him as well.

_§ Your voice is noted§,_ Memzath acknowledged. _§And if it was not for the darkness that has been sensed, then that would be enough§._

_§ Darkness§? _Harry asked, confused.

He had no idea what Memzath was referring to but it sounded suspiciously like the great Horntail was implying that he, Harry, was dark. Or bad. _Evil_ , even.

_§ Darkness§, _Memzath repeated. _§There is a smell of darkness within you, Speaker§._

_§ Within me§? _Harry squeaked through the sudden lump in his throat.

He certainly did _not_ like the way that Memzath was currently looking at him.

_§ Perhaps ‘within’ is the wrong word§, _Memzath said, his great head turning slightly and lowering so that he was now looking at Harry’s face more closely. _§Perhaps_ attached _to you is the correct term§._

That, Harry decided, didn’t sound any better. Attached to him?

_§ So, this darkness that you … smell? It’s not a … a part of me§? _Harry asked, trying to understand.

_§ It is and it is not, Speaker. Perhaps it can be dealt with§._

And before Harry could comprehend what was being said, Memzath’s front paw lifted, his claw extended and he swiped straight at Harry’s face.

Instantly, intense pain blossomed in Harry’s head and he let out a piercing scream that reverberated around the cavern. His hand slapped wetly against his head, directly over where his lightning bolt scar was.

And then the pain intensified, ten, a hundred, a thousand-fold. Darkness closed in and the world around him vanished as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_11:10am_

_Friday, 28 July 1995_

_Weyr Council Cavern, Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

The bellows and roars that erupted all around the cavern would have deafened any human there. The fact that the body of the only human there had just shut down meant that he didn’t hear any of it.

And then, in an instant, the protesting dragons stopped. But where one would expect complete silence, there was, instead an eerie, unearthly wail.

From the Speaker’s forehead where he now lay unconscious on the hard stone, a wisp of vile poisonous green mist erupted. The mist twisted and tuned about itself, as though it was attempting to keep every part of it together. And from this mist came that strange cry.

Memzath’s head shifted upwards in line with the mist, his eyes watching, his senses tasting. Yes. _This_ was the source of the darkness that he had sensed from within the Speaker. Whatever this was, it was wrong, evil, a darkness that did not belong.

When Memzath judged that the mist had risen high enough, he let loose with a long, thin, blue-white flame. The intense heat enveloped the mist before it simply ceased to be, as all things touched by dragon flame were wont to do.

That was the cue for the great bellowing roars of the assembled dragons to begin once again, only this time, the dragons were rejoicing, trumpeting and bugling being liberally mixed from many in attendance.

Memzath allowed it to go on for some time before his deep trumpeting bugle brought the Weyr back under control.

_§ The darkness that had a hold of the Speaker is no more§, _he announced, perhaps unnecessarily.

_§ The Speaker§? _Dirath asked.

Before answering, Memzath lowered his head so that his snout was close to the Speaker’s face. A puff of air, while nowhere near the intensity that it could be, was still hot enough to leave the Speaker’s forehead glowing red. The blood and black gunk that had poured from the scarred wound dried instantly. Memzath’s long tongue washed it clean and he tasted that the Speaker’s magic was entirely his own.

_§ He lives and is whole§, _Memzath declared.

_§ And how do you judge him, Memzath§? _Ramaranth asked.

After taking one final sniff, taking one final sense of the Speaker’s magic and self, the Weyr leader lifted his head and took in the dozens of dragons all eagerly awaiting his verdict.

_§ I judge the Speaker worthy§._

Once again, great trumpeting bugles echoed around the cavern, declaring the Weyr’s agreement and celebration of the pronouncement.

Only after the dragons had settled did Tyriath, the eldest of all dragons at the Weyr slowly step down from his ledge and plod across the centre of the bowl.

_§ Tyriath§? _Memzath asked, bowing his great head in respect.

_§ The Speaker has been declared worthy. I ask what we intend on telling him? How much of our great history? How much of Dragon Lore? What ancient secrets is he truly worthy of? Forget not, he is still a two-leg and one who is still young in years§, _the ancient dragon stated.

There was a distinct rumbling around the chamber as dragon discussed with dragon these important questions. None, it seemed had given much thought to what having a Speaker with them meant beyond that of having a two-leg who they could talk to and who would listen to them and Speak for them.

_§ The Speaker has shown that he wants to learn§, _Memzath stated slowly.

_§ There is much truth in your words, Memzath§¸_Ramaranth said. _§He has listened to us and told the other two-legs what we want and need. And they have begun changing their ways§._

_§ The Speaker flies with us§._

_§ He made them give us more food§._

_§ The ache in my hind foot has been healed§._

_§ The Speaker carries two-leg writings, a book he called it§, _Damrath added. _§He tells words from this and asks what is truth and what is dung. He remembers what we tell him and has promised to teach the two-legs§._

_§ How many moons will the Speaker remain in Weyr§?_ Tyriath asked.

_§ The Speaker will visit all Weyrs§ _the tiny voice of Spekith volunteered.

_§ All Weyrs? That I do not believe§, _Tyriath said, moving his head slowly from side to side. _§All Weyrs that the two-legs have created, perhaps, but not all Weyrs that contain dragons§._

_§ What of the other Weyrs§?_ Memzath asked. _§Should the Speaker not be told§?_

Again, there was much rumbling debate within the cavern before Tyriath stamped one of his feet. While Norwegian Ridgebacks were not as large or as heavy as Horntails or even Ironbellies, Tyriath had the gravitas to instantly claim silence from all dragons.

_§ I propose that the Speaker be only told what he needs to know, when he needs to know it§._

Memzath, though, decided to add to the proposal.

_§ Our smallest brethren and near-cousins should remain Weyr secrets, even from the Speaker for now. The other Weyrs, those dragons who have established their own Weyrs apart from the two-legs, they may need the Speaker to Speak for them. That he may be told, as he needs§, _he declared.

The rumbling of the dragons this time was punctuated by trumpets and bugles of some of the younger or more vocal of the dragons.

_§ And what of the Speaker now§?_ Ramaranth asked. _§He is not able to move under his own power§._

Memzath lowered his head slightly in combined acknowledgement and to look at the unconscious two-leg before him.

_§ Ramaranth, we entrust the Speaker into your care. Return him to the other two-legs§, _he said.

_§ Yes, Memzath§,_ she replied before spreading her wings and gliding down from her ledge to the floor of the cavern.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_4:05pm_

_Friday, 28 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?” an anxious Sirius asked, even as he hovered on one side of the bed that his godson was currently lying unconscious in.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Remus shrugged, his own eyes firmly fixed on the face of the sleeping teen. “The Healer said that he was fine, apart from the fact that his magic levels were all going haywire …”

“but if he rested for at least a day and didn’t use his magic at all in that time, then he’d be fine,” Sirius concluded. “I know that, Moony, I _was_ here, too, remember?”

“Then stopping being a worry-wort,” Remus near-snapped. “Our Cub’ll be fine.”

Sirius couldn’t help but snort. “Cauldron. Kettle.”

“Black,” Remus finished, a touch of a wry grin on the corners of his lips. “I get it, Sirius, we only just got him back, we’re both overly sensitive about losing him or something happening to him.”

“But Harry won’t appreciate our hovering,” Sirius sighed, running a hand along the back of his neck. “That kid’s had a hard life, you and I both know that. He’s had to grow up way faster than he should have and he’s missed out on an awful lot. And then, when he finally came back, all that Boy-Who-Lived nonsense combined with the fame that went with the TriWiz and his Marauder-level way of doing the Tasks …”

“Marauder-level?” Remus grinned, shaking his head. “I doubt any of us would have dared to make a mockery of the TriWiz like he did.”

“I feel insulted,” Sirius replied with a mock-hurt hand on his heat. “Maybe _you_ would have competed properly but both _James or I_ would have done our best to make a farce of the whole thing.”

“No, _you two_ would have made a mockery of the TriWiz _while still trying to win_ ,” Remus countered. “Harry didn’t.”

“Mister Padfoot bows to Mister Moony and concedes the point,” Sirius said after a moment’s consideration.

“As you should,” Remus nodded smugly before his eyes once more fell on Harry and his face fell. “And now he has to contend with _that_.”

The eyes of both men latched on to the same spot: the once-was lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead.

When he’d first been brought back – in the claws of a dragon no less – Harry’d been unconscious and most of his face was covered in dried blood and something else that no one could identify. Very quickly, though, he’d been cleaned up and then then they’d seen it.

The lightning bolt scar that had adorned Harry’s face for most of his life now had a vicious, straight, vertical line straight through it that started two finger widths above the original scar and finished the same length below it.

And if that wasn’t already more than enough, there was something else, something remarkable about it: it wasn’t the normal colour that one would expect from a wound; not a fresh wound or even a wound that had been healed for any length of time. No. This wound, this Mark, even after being as magically healed as possible, was a vibrant bluish-purple and stood out like no other wound or scar that any one of them had ever seen before.

About the only good thing about this new scar was the fact that it _did_ detract from the remains of the famous lightning bolt.

Alexander and Charlie, though, the instant that they’d seen it, had nearly fallen over backwards from where they’d been crouched over Harry lying on the dirt. Neither had been able to tear their eyes away from the Mark, much like Sirius and Remus had had their eyes constantly and continuously drawn to it in the hours that they’d been standing by Harry’s bed since the Healer had left.

Both, though, couldn’t stop remembering the awed whisper that had escaped Alexander when he finally did find his voice. And not one of them, not Harry’s guardians, not the Healer and not even the dragon handlers themselves, knew exactly what it was going to mean for Harry in the short or the long term.

“The Mark of the Dragon.”


	6. The Mark of the Dragon

_9:10am_

_Sunday, 30 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

Unlike at most other times, Harry jolted awake. One second he was asleep, the next his eyes were wide and he was looking around from where he was unexpectedly now sitting on his bed.

His bed? He didn’t remember coming to bed. Come to that, he didn’t even remember returning to camp. A glance out of his window told him that it was daytime, what was puzzling though was the position of the sun on the trees.

_Morning? How can it be morning?_ he wondered.

He distinctly remembered being down in the canyon with the dragons in the afternoon.

But then more of his memory returned. Yes, he’d been in the canyon, in with the fledglings until … Grouleth interrupted. And then he was taken to a secret dragon council. All the dragons had been there including a dragon that he’d never seen or met before – Memzath, the Weyr Leader.

Absently, Harry flicked a finger and, from across the room a piece of wood dislodged itself from the pile that he’d stacked beside the door and flew to him. Unerringly, he caught it before frowning down at it. Black locust wood, native here in Romania, thus why he’d picked it up. It certainly didn’t live up to its name; it wasn’t black or even a dark-coloured wood. Still, it intrigued him, having a type of wood that he hadn’t worked with before.

Memzath, his brain returned to its original thoughts even as he grabbed up his carving tools from the shelf above his bed. Memzath had been concerned with something, with … with _him_. The great dragon had kept saying that there was a darkness.

The memory of the slashing pain in his forehead had Harry dropping the knife and slapping a hand over his scar. But the familiar feel that he’d had longer than he could remember had _changed._ Lightly, he traced the scar. There, his fingers found the familiar lightning bolt, only now, it felt like there was an extra scar, a slash that went straight through it, from top to bottom.

It was definitely a strange feeling to know but not know something that was a part of you. And the extra ridges that the frown that he was wearing wasn’t helping either. A glance around his room only deepened his frown: there was no mirror in here. The best that he had was …

Snatching up his knife again, he held it so that he could look into the blade and see his reflection. It wasn’t easy or the best of mediums, but it at least allowed him to see … a weird bluish-purple line on his head, slashed straight through his lightning bolt.

“What the …!” he began just as the door opened.

“Harry! You’re awake!” Sirius exclaimed loudly.

And then his godfather was across the room and Harry had to quickly put the knife down for fear of stabbing the man as he raced to hug him.

The feeling of his hair being ruffled alerted Harry to the fact that Sirius hadn’t been the only one entering his bedroom.

“Finally awake, Cub,” Remus smiled down at him. “We thought you might miss your birthday with the way that you were going.”

“Miss my birthday?” Harry echoed. “Exactly how long was I asleep?”

“A day and a half,” Charlie replied from just inside the door where he stood beside Alexander. “Today’s the thirtieth. And, in case you were wondering, it’s just after nine in the morning.”

“I slept for a day and a half?” Harry’s exclaimed. “What? Why? What happened?”

“We were hoping that you could tell us that,” Alexander said and Harry noted that the weathered face had a distinctly interested look on it.

“I think we’d all like to hear that story, Pup,” Sirius said.

Harry looked from his godfather sitting on his bed, to Remus standing beside him with his hand now resting on Harry’s shoulder to the extremely eager looks on both Charlie and Alexander’s faces.

“I’m not sure that I completely know,” Harry shrugged.

“Tell us what you remember,” Remus said lightly.

“Well, I was in with the fledglings, getting those measurements that Charlie wanted,” he began.

“We found the parchment and tapes in your pocket,” Charlie nodded. “Looks like you did good work.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned. “Although, I’m now a quill short; Spekith ate one of them. I was close to finishing when Grouleth interrupted. He wanted me to come to the Weyr Council.”

“Council? What Council?” Alexander asked sharply, clearly confused.

“Are you saying that the _dragons_ have some sort of … some sort of _government_?” Charlie spluttered.

“Yep,” Harry grinned. “You should see it. It’s this huge cavern, so high I couldn’t even see the roof. And there are all these ledges built into the walls for the dragons to sit on. And in the middle, on the floor is where the Weyr Leader stands to talk with all the other dragons.”

“Weyr Leader,” Alexander said, shaking his head. “Which dragon’s that?”

“And where’s this cavern?” Charlie added at the exact same time.

Harry looked from one to the other, deciding which to answer first. His boss, he decided.

“The Weyr Leader is Memzath. He’s a Horntail, pretty old, definitely one of the oldest dragons here and not one that I’d met before. And as for where the cavern is, it’s at the end of a long tunnel – felt like I walked down it for at least ten minutes – inside the last cave in the canyon.”

“The one that the dragons never let us near?” Charlie speculated, looking at his boss. “On the right-hand side.”

“Yeah, reckon so,” Alexander said. “What’s the odds that this Memzath lives there?”

“Pretty good, I’d say,” Charlie nodded.

“But what happened in there, Harry?” Sirius prompted. “Obviously something big since Ramaranth had to carry you back here unconscious.”

“I’m guessing it’s got something to do with how you got that Mark,” Alexander said, stepping forward and gesturing to Harry’s forehead.

Once again, Harry’s hand rose to trace his scar, only this time, it was solely the new portion of it.

“Yeah,” Harry replied grimly. “The dragons wanted to test me. Said something about that, even though I could Speak to them, that they needed to be sure that I could Speak _for_ them. And then Memzath started saying something about how I was dark … no, that’s not quite it. That there was a darkness _attached_ to me. And the next thing I knew, Memzath slashed me with his claw. I think I passed out after that; at least, that’s the last thing I remember.”

“A darkness attached to him?” Sirius echoed, looking up at Remus.

“No idea, Siri,” Remus shrugged. “I may be a Master of Defence Against the Dark Arts and a ‘Dark Creature’ myself, but I’m not a dragon. Who knows what they can see or sense?”

“You are not a dark creature!” Sirius growled. “You just have a special problem at _that time of the month_.”

“The dragons didn’t explain more?” Alexander asked, seemingly ignoring the two men.

Harry shook his head. “No. Or, at least, not to me or while I was awake.”

“But what about the Mark?” Charlie asked.

That was the second time that Harry had heard that term and this time, he caught the capital letter, the fact that it was something _important_.

“Mark?” he asked.

Alexander stepped closer and pointed at Harry’s new scar.

“That is the Mark of the Dragon,” he stated and Harry wasn’t sure whether he was in awe of it, scared of it or intrigued by it.

“Mark of the Dragon?” Harry repeated. “What’s that?”

“That is something very special. Very special and extremely rare,” Alexander replied, his eyes firmly fixed on the Mark in question. “There’s been less than a handful of people in all of history that have been given a Mark. And you have to be given it. You can’t demand it or ask for it or anything. It’s completely up to the dragons themselves. We’re not even certain _how_ it’s given. Our best guess – and mind you, this comes from some ancient writings in a language that’s long since fallen into disuse – is that it’s a combination of the dragon’s claw, saliva, breath and magic.”

“Don’t look at me,” Harry told the assembled men who were all staring at him. “I’m just as clueless as all of you. But what does it _mean_?”

“Legend tells us that a person who has the Mark can control and command all dragons. They’ll do your bidding. They’ll come and go as you ask. And they’ll go to war against anyone or anything that dares to try to harm you. For all intents and purposes, anyone with that Mark is considered a dragon themselves, and not just any dragon, but also their king and their champion,” Alexander stated.

Harry’s mind had all but shut down by the end of his boss’ explanation even as his eyes had only grown wider and wider.

“Champion,” Harry whispered, latching onto the last word. “Champion. Or _Speaker_.”

He looked up from where his head had dropped.

“They wanted to know if I was worthy enough to Speak for them,” he said.

“I’d say that they gave you your answer,” Charlie replied.

“You said that your understanding of what it means to carry this Mark of the Dragon comes from ancient writings,” Remus said. “How certain are you of your interpretation?”

“As best as we can be,” Alexander shrugged. “Of course, some of that could be exaggeration, but I doubt it’s much, if anything.”

“Harry, it might not be a bad idea for you to start keeping a record or something like a journal of all the things that you’re learning about dragons, including what the dragons say this Mark represents,” Remus suggested.

“Make it a book,” Charlie suggested. “Every dragon keeper in the world would want a copy.”

“Make it a book and sell it,” Sirius said expanded excitedly. “Dragons have always fascinated everyone. You could make quite the cauldron of gold by selling it to regular witches and wizards as well, not to mention schools. It could even become a textbook!”

Harry looked at Charlie and Sirius and then up at Remus.

“I might do that,” he said. “The writing it all down part, not writing a jolly school textbook.”

“And in the meantime, perhaps you can get the great behemoth that’s been sitting in the middle of camp to go back to the canyon where she belongs?” Alexander asked.

Harry cocked his head, not understanding.

“Ramaranth,” Charlie explained. “She hasn’t moved since bringing you home.”

That was enough for Harry. In a rush, he scrambled from his bed and raced for the door.

\---

Exactly as he’d been told, his first dragon friend was crouched just outside the cabin. Her head was pointed at the door and, even though her eyes were half-lidded, Harry was certain that she was very aware of everything that was going on around her.

_§Speaker§,_ she said, lifting her head. _§I sensed you coming. Are you recovered§?_

Harry skidded to a halt, blinking up at her.

_§Ramaranth? You sound different. Your accent’s changed§,_ he said.

A rumble erupted from Ramaranth’s throat in what Harry knew to be a laugh.

_§It is not I that has changed their speech, but you Speaker§,_ she told him. _§You no longer Speak with the sound of a belly-crawler, instead you Speak truly, as you should, as Our Speaker§._

His accent had changed? Belly-crawler? Harry could only guess that she meant like a snake which was what parseltongue was most known for – snake language. And then the other part of what she’d said registered. ‘Our Speaker’ Ramaranth had said. He guessed that that meant that he’d been found worthy.

_§I will return to the others and tell them of your recovery§,_ she said before he could reply. _§Until soon, Speaker§._

With that, she spread her great wings and jumped, her long neck leading as she left the ground, beating up until she was above the cabins and the trees before wheeling away towards the canyon.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_2:40pm_

_Sunday, 30 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Sanctuary, Romania_

.

A loud _thump_ on the ground just through the trees had Remus wondering if he really had chosen the best place to hold his first lesson with Harry. He’d _thought_ that this little clearing, just back from the edge of the canyon and a little inside the tree line, would be perfect, somewhat private and with the added bonus of being a peaceful, natural spot that should help this lesson in particular.

What he hadn’t counted on were the dragons. This was the second that had landed since they’d arrived and while they weren’t venturing in through the trees, they were definitely watching.

Taking a breath, Remus decided that the best thing that he could do was to ignore them and to get on with what he wanted to teach.

“When you went to the dragon council,” Remus began and marvelled at the string of words that he’d never thought would belong together, “you didn’t let us know. Why was that?”

“Well, Grouleth was quite insistent that we had to go then,” Harry shrugged. “There was no time to return to the camp to let anyone know what was happening.”

Remus nodded. “I thought that was the case. And that brings us to the point of today’s lesson. Watch. _Expecto patronum._ ”

Instantly, a large, silver, ethereal wolf appeared from his wand. It trotted around them, its nose up in the air before coming to face Remus.

“A message to Sirius. I have begun the lesson,” Remus told it.

Instantly, the silvery ghost-like wolf bounded off, quickly becoming lost to sight.

“What was that?” Harry asked, wide-eyed.

“That was a patronus,” Remus replied. “Or more specifically, a messenger patronus.”

Lifting his finger, he cut off Harry’s likely questions.

“A patronus is a charm which manifests itself as an animal, a guardian if you will. Primarily, it’s used to defend against dementors and lethifolds – a lesson for another day. Our aim at the moment is to have you able to create your own patronus which will then lead on to you being able to use your patronus to send messages as you saw me do just now.”

“Patronuses? Patronii?” Harry shrugged and shook his head. The plural didn’t really matter. “They take the form of animals? What will mine be?”

“That we won’t know until you can successfully cast one,” Remus smiled. “However, it will be unique to you. After all, it is a part of you, something that defines you. Mine, as you saw, is a wolf. Sirius’ is a dog. Your fathers’ was a stag.”

“It was?” Harry asked interestedly. “What about mum?”

“A doe,” Remus smiled.

“Cool,” Harry grinned in return. “So, how do I cast it?”

“This isn’t an easy charm to master,” Remus warned. “There are many adult witches and wizards who are never able to produce a patronus for one reason or another. It takes a lot of power, which I believe you have, and a firm grasp of a positive, happy memory. The rest is simple. The wand movement is a simple point and the incantation is, as you heard, _expecto patronum_.”

“You know that I don’t always need my wand to make magic, right?” Harry asked.

“I am very aware of that, Harry, however due to the difficulty of this spell, I think the added power and control that using a wand will give you is necessary,” Remus said.

Once Harry had pulled his wand, Remus nodded and continued.

“What I want you to do is to close your eyes,” he said, intentionally keeping his voice mellow, letting the cadence of his words help to, hopefully, relax Harry. “I want you to search your memory, find a time when you were clearly happy, a time when you were most enjoying life. It’s okay to discard one memory in favour for another. In fact, I expect you to. More often than not, it takes a little trial and error. For now, though, pick a memory where you felt great joy and happiness.”

He watched as Harry’s face went through a myriad of emotions. There was the frown of concentration; the headshake and almost growl of something that he instantly discarded; contemplation and consideration; and finally, a slow grin began forming on his face and Remus knew that he had a memory that was worth, at the very least, trying.

“It looks to me as though you’ve found that memory,” he said. “Now, I want you to relive it, experience it all again. You don’t have to tell me what it is, it’s enough that you know it, that you remember it. Let the feelings that engulfed you that day, fill you now. Feel that happiness, that joy, that love if that’s a part of it. Let those feelings consume you until they fill every part of you.”

Remus continued watching Harry’s face. Finally, he thought the teen had it, was ready for the next part.

“Now, when you’re ready, I want you to raise your wand. You know the incantation: e _xpecto patronum,”_ Remus said and waited, watching.

Slowly, Harry’s wand came up, his eyes still closed.

“ _Expecto patronum_!” Harry incanted.

Not unexpectedly, nothing happened.

“Push your feelings into your magic,” Remus coached. “Feel it and _push_!”

“ _Expecto patronum_!” Harry cast again.

Remus could see the strain on his face as he continued pouring his magic into the spell. And then, a stream of white, gossamer-thin magic appeared from Harry’s wand. It wasn’t much, a trickle a best. But still …

“Well done, Harry! Very well done, indeed!” Remus exclaimed.

“But I didn’t make an animal like you or mum or dad,” Harry panted, his hands on his knees. “It was barely anything.”

“Harry, I never expected you to, at least not today, not in your very first lesson,” Remus told him as he pulled a block of chocolate from his pocket and began unwrapping it. “As I told you, this is a spell that not every adult can do. It’s extremely advanced. The fact that you managed anything is simple astounding. But now that you’ve begun, we can continue to work on it.”

“But I wanted to see what my animal was,” Harry complained, even as he took the piece of chocolate that Remus had snapped off for him.

“And you will, just not today.”

“It was definitely hard, much harder than I thought it was supposed to be,” Harry said. “Are you sure that I was doing it right?”

“It may be that you weren’t using a strong enough memory,” Remus said. “And that shall be your homework. I want you to search your memories, see if you can’t find a better memory to use. Remember, it has to be one full of great, positive emotion. It can’t just be something that was positive or good. It’s the _emotions_ that really count with this spell.”

Remus saw Harry’s eyes dart towards the pair of dragons that were still watching.

“Can I try it once more?” he asked.

“Are you sure that you’ve got enough in you to try?” Remus asked. “Producing the mist that you did took a lot out of you.”

“I’m sure,” Harry replied.

In reply, Remus simply waved his hand. He watched as Harry’s eyes darted to the dragons once again before he squared his shoulders.

“ _Expecto patronum_!”

Once again, silvery mist appeared out of Harry’s wand. This time, though, it’d happened much quicker and was definitely a little stronger. It still wasn’t strong enough to form a shield, which came before the animal patronus itself, but there was no doubt that it was stronger.

Before long, Harry let it go and dropped to his knees, his head down and his shoulders heaving as he panted.

“That was exceptional, Harry!” Remus exclaimed, handing over more chocolate. “But I think that’s quite enough for one day.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harry conceded. “But I really did want to find out what my patronus animal is.”

Remus didn’t reply, instead just waiting for the teen to recover enough to walk back to the cabin. His eyes slid to the two dragons watching them and he wondered if Sirius would be up for betting on Harry’s patronus form. What was he saying? This was Padfoot! He’d bet on anything at the drop of a hat. A grin appeared on Remus’ face; there could be some gold to be made here.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_7:20pm_

_Sunday, 30 July 1995_

_Studland, Dorset, England_

.

“Tina! Tina!”

“There’s no need to shout, Newt, I’m right here, exactly where I was sitting the last time you saw me, not fifteen minutes ago,” Tina Scamander scolded her husband.

“Oh, of course,” he replied. “But have you seen this?”

She looked from the piece of parchment that he was waving in his hand to the owl currently sitting on his shoulder.

“Considering that looks like a letter that just arrived, I’d have to say that, no, I haven’t seen that,” she said. “What is it?”

“It’s from a friend of mine down in Tanzania, the dragon reserve there, actually,” Newt replied.

“You’re not thinking of going on a trip to the Tanzania Dragon Reserve, are you?”

“It’s The Draconian Sanctuary of Tanzania, actually, but no, of course not,” Newt replied. “I’m planning on going to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary.”

Tina sighed and closed her eyes. Even after all these years, her husband’s mind was hard to keep track of.

“Leaving aside the fact that you are a ninety-nine-year-old man that should be enjoying his retirement instead of going traipsing around the world,” Tina said, “kindly explain to me _why_ you want to go to Romania.”

“Well, you see, something extraordinary has happened,” Newt replied excitedly. “There’s a new parselmouth working with the dragons …”

“Harry Potter, yes, we know, it’s been all over the _Daily Prophet_ for weeks now,” Tina supplied.

“Yes, yes but there’s more, you see,” Newt continued. “It seems that two days ago, Harry Potter was given the Mark of the Dragon! It’s most extraordinary; very fascinating. Imagine what he could learn, what he could teach us!”

Tina stared at her husband. He got this same gleam in his eye every single time there was the chance to learn something new about any of his creatures. And she also knew that there was no stopping him when he got like this, not that she’d ever really tried. It was a part of him, a part of what made him the great man that he was, and a large part of why she loved him so much.

“Very well,” she conceded. “But I expect you to actually tell me exactly what this ‘Mark of the Dragon’ is while we pack and exactly why it’s so special. And Newt? We’re leaving that suitcase of yours behind this time! You manage to find enough trouble on your own without adding in everything that that suitcase entails to the mix.”


	7. Presents For All

_8:05am_

_Monday, 31 July 1995_

_Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England_

.

Neville Longbottom always thought that his sleeping habits were rather strange or at the very least, backward.

During the school term, at Hogwarts, he loved nothing more than sleeping in. Sure, he was never late to class and always managed to have breakfast, no matter how fast he had to cram it in, but, on the whole, he preferred to sleep. Especially on the weekends.

But during the holidays, when everyone else he knew slept as late as they could – some, like Seamus, even until midday – Neville found himself waking at dawn. The reason was simple enough: to work in his greenhouses. Leaving them all-but-unattended for ten months of the year meant that, once he returned home, there was simply so much work to be done to get them tidied up, ensure that the plants already there were healthy and then to begin the new work that he’d planned for himself during the school term.

Neville loved nothing more than working with his plants. And, to be quite honest, even if only to himself, he was quite proud of what he’d accomplished with his plants over the years.

Thus, while on holidays, he was always on time for breakfast, even if he did have to rush to get himself cleaned up and made spotless, just as his Gran expected, on some mornings.

Today was no exception.

He was there, waiting by the tea tray for his Gran’s entry with but a bare minute to spare.

As always, she gave a slight nod and smile to him when she entered the room. Neville returned the smile and began pouring the tea, making sure to prepare it precisely the way she liked. Once it was done, he carefully walked across to the table and placed it at her right hand.

“Good morning, Gran,” he said, bending down to give her a kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, Neville,” she replied. “My thanks.”

The ritual complete, Neville slipped into his own seat. His Gran, he knew, wasn’t really a morning person either; at least, not until after she’d taken her first cup of tea. Until then, it was best to be where he was supposed to be, doing what was expected to be doing and to not ask too many questions.

The silence, though, was broken by a tap at the window.

Placing his knife back down from where he’d just picked it up, Neville looked around and blinked at the owl that could be seen sitting on the outside ledge.

A glance at the clock confirmed the time; it was still half an hour early for the owl that brought the _Daily Prophet_ and for the usual post owls to arrive.

“Neville? See what the owl wants, if you please,” his Gran instructed.

“Yes, Gran,” Neville replied, even as he was scrambling from his chair.

Within moments, he was unlatching the window and allowing the owl to jump inside onto a table placed just below the window. It took one careful look up at him before regally extending its leg. Neville’s eyes widened at seeing his own name written on the envelope.

_For him!_ But he _never_ got mail when he was home on holidays. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, he _did_ get a handful of letters just the day before, but they were all the expected ones, from relatives who felt obligated to send him basically the same thing every year.

After taking the letter, Neville fed the bird an owl treat from the bowl that sat on the table and then watched it leave.

Then, having closed the window, he retook his seat, picked up his knife and slit open the envelope. The paper that fell out was different from the usual parchment; it felt smoother, thinner. Muggle, he decided. But that wasn’t the only thing in the envelope. Shaking it upside down, a clear, plastic bag dropped into his palm. Lifting it up, Neville peered inside to see a couple dozen tiny seeds. He frowned at the lack of recognition that they generated for him.

“What do you have there, Neville?” his Gran asked.

“Seeds,” a surprised Neville replied.

“And who are they from?” she asked.

Quickly, Neville shook open the letter and scanned to the bottom.

“They’re from Harry!” he exclaimed and then, noting the very top of the letter, elaborated. “He remembered my birthday!”

From the corner of his eye, Neville noted his Gran give a nod but his main focus was solely fixed on the letter in his hand.

_Happy birthday, Nev!_

_Sorry if this gets to you a bit late, I’ve got no idea how fast owls are at delivering letters. I figure, better late than never, hey, mate?_

_You’ve probably already found my present to you? They’re seeds from a plant that’s native here in Romania. Clopotelul dobrogean (Campanula romanica) is its scientific name, if that’s any help to you. Anyway, they produce this amazing blue flower that look like a bell. I first noticed them because I saw a fairy the other day and followed it. It led me to a patch of those flowers and there were dozens of fairies flittering all over them. Guess that they love them or something. No idea if they’ve got any other magical properties, but that can be something for you to discover as you grow them._

_Anyway, I hope you like them._

_How are you? How’s the hols going? Doing anything exciting?_

_Me, I’ve begun my work with the Dragon Sanctuary as you know. These dragons can be a bit full-on. I’ve had so many requests from them to either paint them or to paint the walls of their caves or simply to go flying with them that I could be doing nothing else for the next year and still not get it all done. Unfortunately for them, I don’t have time to paint all that much and my free time is limited as it is. I’ve started a couple of portraits and a carving as well but it’s slow going, you know?_

_I also underwent some bizarre dragon ritual the other day. Did you know that dragons had their own Council and Leader and everything? Well, they do. Shocked the guys who’ve been working with dragons for years as well. Guess there’s benefits to being able to talk to them. Anyway, they gave me this Mark which is apparently a Big Deal, at least it is according to everyone here. I’ve yet to get a chance to ask the dragons themselves what it means. When I do, I’ll make sure to tell you._

_Have you heard from Susan, Hermione or Daphne? You guys should all get together and do something over the hols, don’t leave off your friendships just ’cause you’re not together. I know what being alone is like and it’s no picnic._

_Anyway, I better go, Charlie wants me for something, slave-driver that he is._

_Harry._

“And what does Mister Potter have to say?” his Gran asked when Neville lifted his head after reading the letter through twice.

“The seeds are my birthday present. They’re from a plant native to Romania,” Neville said. “Apparently, fairies like the flowers. He did promise that he’d send some, but I never believed that he’d actually remember …”

“Mister Potter is a good friend. Make sure that you write him back and thank him,” his Gran instructed.

“I will,” he promised as his eyes roved over the letter again. “Actually, Gran, can I be excused to go do that now? I think I’ve got a couple of letters that I should write.”

He waited as patiently as he could, unsure what his Gran’s raised eyebrow meant. Finally, she nodded.

“You may be excused,” she said.

Like a shot, Neville was up and all-but-racing from the room, his letter and packet of seeds clutched tightly in his hand.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_9:15am_

_Monday, 31 July 1995_

_Greengrass Manor, Cumbria, England_

.

Cyrus Greengrass couldn’t help himself but to sigh. The worst part was that he wasn’t quite as careful in keeping it to himself.

“Cyrus?” his wife, Penelope, asked, her eyebrows raised.

Deciding to bite the cauldron, Cyrus nodded out the glass-paned French doors that showed the gardens just beyond the sitting room where the two of them were currently relaxing. There was no doubt as to what he was referring to.

Their eldest, Daphne was out there, walking aimlessly about. And while it wasn’t unusual for either of their daughters to be outside enjoying the fresh air, especially in summer, her pose was most unlike her. Both of Daphne’s arms were wrapped tightly around her middle and her head was bowed allowing curtains of her dark hair to fall and all but obscure her face from sight.

“She’s moping again,” Penelope observed.

“Indeed,” Cyrus agreed. “Only this one is worse. She didn’t touch her breakfast I noticed.”

“I saw that, too. Her plate was still full when Dipsy removed the breakfast dishes,” Penelope replied. “You do know why she’s being like this, don’t you?”

“I may be male, but that doesn’t make me clueless,” Cyrus replied. “She’s pining for a boy.”

“Not just any boy,” Penelope corrected him. “Her first real crush. And today just happens to be his birthday.”

“Hmm,” Cyrus frowned.

He’d hoped by now that his daughter’s infatuation with the Potter boy would have started to wane. Not that he could completely blame her. Cyrus had seen the warning signs in her letters throughout the year. She’d begun talking about him more and more. And there were even a few letters that had been directed specifically to her mother that he still wasn’t privy to. The boy was from a good family with an impressive heritage. In other circumstances, he’d have been ecstatic with the match.

But then Potter’s upbringing had been introduced. His _muggle_ upbringing. The boy had come into the Wizarding World full of prejudices and ideas and flaunted them in the face of tradition. He’d been hounded and degraded – rightfully so, in Cyrus’ opinion – for holding them. And his Daphne had been caught up in them as well, threatening their own family name simply by proximity.

Cyrus _had_ tried to do his fatherly duties, to protect both his daughter and their name. He’d forbidden her from interacting with the boy – not that she’d heeded him. He’d even spoken to the boy personally in an attempt at scaring him off. Unfortunately, and most unexpectedly, Cyrus had come away from that meeting more than a little impressed.

And then, at the Third Task, he’d seen Daphne and Harry kiss. The worst part of that was seeing that it was _her_ that had initiated it. He’d known then that she’d fallen hard for him and that she was going to be like this once he left.

“They’ve exchanged letters since the holidays have begun, you know?” Penelope said.

“I’m aware,” Cyrus replied. “She’s going to be like this for a while, isn’t she?”

To his consternation, his wife actually _laughed_ at him.

“Oh, dear, you have no idea,” she said. “Neither of them have said the words or even had a proper conversation about their relationship but the way that she talks about him tells me not only what’s in her heart but that she’s going to be like this all summer. At the very least.”

Cyrus’ eyes followed his daughter as she ambled about, occasionally pausing in front of some flowers. As he watched, he considered his wife’s words. This was not how he liked to see his daughter. He preferred the happy, albeit studious and often serious, version of her that she normally was. But if her thoughts were going to be fixed on a _boy_ , on Harry Potter, then maybe he ought to be having another conversation with said boy. Unfortunately, having that type of conversation was best done face to face and Potter was currently in Romania of all places.

“My dear,” he said slowly, ‘it’s been some time since the family have had a holiday overseas, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed, it has,” she replied and he didn’t fail to note the way the corners of her mouth were upturned and a smile was growing. “Four years, to be precise. Not since Spain.”

“What would you think about us going on holiday this summer? Perhaps even leaving within the week?”

“I think that would be a splendid idea,” she said. “Would you like me to begin organising? I can have Dipsy begin packing as well. Oh, and if we’re going, we really should tell Daphne and Astoria the news. Where should I tell them that we’re going?”

Cyrus could see what she was doing and decided that it was simply easier to play along.

“How about Romania?” he said. “After the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, I seem to have developed a fascination for dragons and I believe that we could learn a lot by seeing them in their natural habitat.”

“That sounds like a marvellous idea,” Penelope replied. “I’ll go tell the girls now.”

He watched as his wife quickly rose and exited into the garden. He saw her get Daphne’s attention and then the two of them begin talking. The loud, excited squeal that rang through the closed doors told him precisely when Daphne received the news of their impending holiday.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_12:00pm_

_Monday, 31 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

“ _Happy birthday to you!”_

As the last words of the traditional song ended, Harry leant down and blew out the candles on the cake. And promptly had the candles explode, covering his face with something that Harry didn’t know if he wanted to know what it was.

Straightening up, he blinked and then scowled at the sudden, raucous laughs that erupted from all those standing around the table. Touching his fingers to his cheek, he looked at them. The tips of two were bright yellow, another pink and the fourth green with some sort of coloured powder.

A small round mirror was thrust into his hands and Harry stared at his face. His eyes widened at the vast array of colours he could see. It was as though a rainbow had thrown up on his face. Every colour imaginable and some that he’d never considered mashing together were there. And it wasn’t just his face, he discovered as he moved the mirror slightly. The front part of his hair had been equally covered in the multicoloured powder.

Looking up, Harry noticed that, while everyone was either still chuckling at him or at the very least had a huge grin on their face, the one who was laughing the hardest was his godfather.

“I assume that you’re responsible for the trick candles?” Harry asked lightly as he shifted his position slightly.

“I saw them in _Gambol and Japes_ ,” Sirius laughed. “Couldn’t resist.”

That was good enough for Harry.

All at once, he leapt at his godfather, managing to get his hands around the man before he realised what was happening. And then it was simply a case of rubbing his face and hair everywhere that he could reach. Sirius’ shirt, face, neck, hands., everywhere. Over and over, Harry moved his head about, making sure to cover as much of his godfather as possible.

Finally, after the two had tipped over, landed on the floor and rolled about and incidentally caused everyone else to scatter, the two rolled apart, panting hard from all the laughing that they’d been doing.

Harry looked across to see that it’d worked and his grin grew even larger. Most of the top half of Sirius was now multicoloured. He was a riot of colour and looked completely ridiculous.

A hand reached down and Harry grabbed it, allowing Remus to haul him to his feet.

“Good one, Cub,” Remus laughed. “Padfoot here needs to be taught that others can prank just as well as he can.

“Couldn’t agree more, Moony,” Harry said.

He rubbed his hand over his face, glanced down to ensure that, yes, it was indeed covered in a kaleidoscope of colours and ruffled the Marauder’s hair, the exact same way that Moony liked doing to him.

“I think, together, we can teach him his place,” Harry grinned.

“If you three have finished being today’s entertainment for the rest of us, I think we’d all like to get ourselves a piece of this cake before we have to go back to work,” Alexander laughed.

“Sure thing, Boss,” Harry grinned. “Where’s that knife?”

In short order, the large rectangular slab of chocolate cake with the dragon motif done in icing that adorned it was stabbed and then sliced into two dozen pieces. For a second, Harry had half a thought of mashing a piece of that cake in Sirius’ face but on second thought, decided that wasting cake that tasted so good was a bad idea. As was the thought of what Sirius would do if a food war was started.

“I think that there’s just enough time left for presents before we have to get back to work,” Charlie said a little later. “Here, you go, Harry. Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Harry replied happily taking the parcel.

Quickly, he ripped off the wrapping to find a blue-grey coat. Reverently, Harry ran his hand across it even as he stood and held it up. It was long and would easily reach to mid-calf with a slit up the back that would make riding a broom easy.

“Swedish Short-Snout?” Harry guessed.

“Yep,” Charlie nodded. “Good eye.”

“Well, I do know my dragons,” Harry grinned.

“Here, Harry, this is from a few of us,” Alexander said, giving him his next present, the first of a small pile as it turned out.

This was definitely turning out to be his best birthday yet. And he still had the presents that had arrived by owl waiting for him still sitting on his bed: Neville, Susan, Hermione and Daphne. That last one he was especially looking forward to opening.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_1:45pm_

_Monday, 31 July 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

Harry raced down the canyon on his broom, delighting in the speed and the feel of the wind whipping through his hair. He laughed as the first dragon began scrambling from her cave at the sight of him before racing along the canyon floor below him, her wings spreading and finally taking to the air to soar after him.

Four more dragons, including Ramaranth and Grouleth were soon in the air along with him all flying in formation. Harry, of course, waved to each and every one of them, plus numerous others on the ground who bellowed out greetings to him but otherwise he decided to save speaking to them until after he’d reached his destination.

It took a little less time than usual to fly the length of the canyon but he attributed that to the fact that he was becoming more familiar with it, where all the different turns were and the ease that he had with knowing what to expect.

Finally, the end of the canyon came into view and he swooped down to land right in front of one particular cave.

_§Speaker? Are you here to Speak to Memzath§?_ Ramaranth asked as she too landed.

_§I am§,_ Harry replied. _§There’s a few questions that I have for him that I need answers to§._

Ramaranth bowed her head. _§I will lead the way§._

Harry nodded and waited for his first dragon friend to make her way into Memzath’s cave. The fact that it also happened to be the entrance to the Dragon Council Cavern, he was sure was no accident.

The walk was long but this time didn’t seem to take as much time, a fact that Harry attributed to knowing where he was going and what to expect this time around. Finally, after nearly ten minutes of walking, Ramaranth moved to the side and Harry could see the great amphitheatre hidden inside the mountain. Once again, he looked to try to discover the source of the light; again, he failed.

The Weyr Leader, he found, was standing in the exact centre of the floor, watching, waiting.

_§Memzath§,_ Harry greeted the ancient dragon with a bow. _§It is good to see you again§._

_§It is pleasing to see you as well, Speaker§,_ Memzath replied, inclining his great head as well. _§What is it that I can help you with§?_

_§I had some questions§,_ Harry replied, _§about what happened the last time that I was here§._

_§It was expected. Ask§._

Once again, Harry bowed, thinking that it would be the right, the honourable thing to do.

_§I guess I really have two big questions and perhaps some smaller ones§,_ Harry began. _§The first is to ask what happened when you scratched me? You said something about a darkness§?_

_§The first question you ask, I cannot fully answer, Speaker§,_ Memzath replied. _§I will do my best to find the words that a two-leg would understand§._

Harry watched the great dragon pace backwards and forwards, his head bowed. Finally, he stopped and faced Harry once again.

_§There was a darkness attached to you, of that we are all certain. It was easy for a dragon to sense when they thought to Look. The power and magic of my claw scratching you was enough to release the darkness from where it was being held. My fire consumed it§,_ Memzath said slowly.

_§But what was it§?_ Harry asked.

_§Something beyond dragon ken§,_ Memzath replied and Harry understood that there was no point asking that question again.

_§Thank you§¸_ he said instead. _§My other biggest question is to find out exactly what having the Mark of the Dragons means§._

_§It marks you to all dragon-kind as our Speaker§,_ Memzath replied simply.

_§Okay, I can get that§,_ Harry replied. _§But what does being a Speaker mean? Are there any special responsibilities? Duties? Privileges, even§?_

The great rumbling that came from Memzath’s belly and throat Harry knew to be a dragon’s way of laughing.

_§It means what it means§,_ Memzath stated. _§You Speak for us. You are our voice to other two-legs. The trust of all dragons is in your paws. We have faith that you will only Speak to our good and that your words will defend us, just as our fire and claws will defend you if you ever need us§._

_§That’s all§?_ Harry asked.

_§What more could it mean, Speaker? To Speak for all dragon-kind is a great honour that is bestowed very rarely. The Mark that I gave you will ensure that all Dragons know you for who you are when they see it§._

“I’m an ambassador, not a king,” Harry muttered to himself. “I knew that book had to wrong.”

_§Do you have other questions that you wish to ask§?_ Memzath asked.

_§Not at the moment, but probably later§,_ Harry replied. _§Thank you for helping me understand§._

_§Of course, Speaker§,_ Memzath replied with a bow of his head. _§Until soon§._

_§Until soon§,_ Harry replied.

Then, after giving one final bow, he turned and headed back into the tunnel


	8. Visitors, New and Old

_11:20am_

_Wednesday, 2 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

The buildings rapidly grew in size as they approached. Harry found that, even squinting, it wasn’t easy to focus on them, not on exactly where they thought that they’d land. But then, that wasn’t unexpected. Firstly, _he_ wasn’t the one in control of the flying. And secondly, as fast as a Nimbus Two Thousand was, a _dragon_ was faster still. And Ramaranth in particular, especially when she was trying to show off was exceptionally fast. Which he suspected that she was.

Her wings flared and he was forced to grab on to the ridge spike in front of him quickly so that he wasn’t tipped off backwards as she slowed and her back went almost perpendicular to the ground, her tail towards the ground.

Having regained his balance, Harry leant out slightly, looking past her wing and down at the ground.

There were quite a number of people down there, more than he would have expected. And some of them looked to be wearing _dresses?_ Or more likely, robes. Unless there was something official happening, none of the female dragon keepers wore robes. No, it was strictly pants for everyone regardless of gender. They were simply much more practical.

A waving arm directed up at him focussed his attention and Harry recognised Sirius. Grinning, he waved back.

And then Ramaranth dropped, adjusting her wings so that they could land. Harry waited and made sure to lean back. He’d learnt that trick after the first couple of times riding her. She tended to land on her back legs first and then come down heavily on her front legs and, if he wasn’t careful, then he was in danger of being flung head over heels off of her. It’d been a very close thing that first time.

Finally, she was down and Harry was able to relax his grip.

_§Thanks for the lift home, Ramarath_ _§,_ he said, giving her a pat on her neck

_§It was my pleasure, Speaker§,_ she replied.

Then, after making sure that he had a firm grip on her ridge spike, Harry swung his leg over and allowed his body to slide down her side. Once he was fully extended, he felt around, finally found the front leg that Ramarath had cocked for him and let go. A short jump later and he was back on the ground.

“That never gets old, seeing you do that, Pup,” Sirius said.

“I’m sure that I could get one of the dragons to take you for a flight if you want,” Harry said, turning to face him.

“You know, one day, I might even take you up on that,” Sirius half-laughed.

“I’d go for a ride on the back of a dragon, that is if I could hold on to you,” a voice that Harry instantly recognised said.

Quickly, his eyes wide, Harry stepped out and around his godfather.

“Daphne?” he asked.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, a huge smile on her face. “Surprise!”

“What are you doing here?” he asked before quickly continuing. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that you’re here but I had no idea that you were coming. You never said anything in your letters to even hint that you were coming.”

A cuff over the back of his head stopped him with his mouth half-open.

“You’re babbling,” Sirius admonished. “Just hug the girl.”

Harry didn’t need any more prompting than that and instantly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. His face buried into her hair and he breathed in that oh-so-familiar smell that he hadn’t smelt in what felt far too long. Feeling her arms around him brought a large smile to his face.

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered back.

A pointed clearing of a throat broke the two apart.

Harry turned towards where the sound had come from to find a man that he recognised standing there, a frown on his face. Harry couldn’t help it. He gulped.

“Lord Greengrass,” he said, having gathered his courage, and stepped forward with his hand outstretched.

“Mister Potter,” Lord Greengrass replied giving his hand, what Harry felt was a particularly vigorous shake.

This time it was a dainty cough that broke the moment.

“Ah, yes, may I present my wife, the Lady Penelope Greengrass and my youngest daughter, Astoria,” Lord Greengrass introduced.

A slight movement from Sirius reminded Harry that there was a particular way that one greeted a lady and while he hadn’t had many lessons yet on pureblood customs, this was one that Harry had had.

“Lady Penelope, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said and bowed over her hand, lightly brushing her knuckles with his lips.

“Mister Potter,” she replied. “It’s very nice to meet you after everything that I’ve heard about you.”

Harry gave Daphne a sidelong look but her face remained distinctly impassive and he got nothing from her.

“Astoria,” he said, giving the younger girl who looked almost like a carbon copy of her sister, albeit with hazel eyes instead of dazzling blue, a nod in greeting.

“In answer to your question, Mister Potter,” Lord Greengrass said, “we are here for a holiday. It was a spur of the moment decision, you understand, thus why Daphne did not inform you that we were coming.”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry grinned, trying to address him however much his eyes kept being drawn back to Daphne. “Where are you staying?”

“There is a small area designed for visitors at the base of the mountains,” Lord Greengrass replied.

_§Speaker, are these two-legs important to you§?_

Harry turned back to Ramaranth who had remained remarkedly still exactly where they had landed.

_§Yes, my friend, they are, especially Daphne§,_ he replied.

_§I would be interested in meeting the two-leg. They may approach, I will be gentle§,_ she said.

_§I never doubted that you would be§,_ Harry said.

“You do remember how disconcerting that sounds for those of us who have no idea what you’re saying, don’t you?” Daphne said when he’d turned back.

“Yep,” he grinned. “And I also remember someone telling me off for speaking in parseltongue.”

“I may have not had all of the facts when I offered that advice,” she replied, her nose slightly up and her head turned away.

Harry, though, wasn’t fooled. He could see the smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m guessing that’s your way of apologising?” he asked.

“You can take it that way if you like,” she replied.

But it seemed that that was too much for her as she dissolved into giggles.

“What did she say to you?” Daphne asked.

“Actually, she asked to meet you. All of you,” he added, encompassing the entire Greengrass family. “She’s promised to be gentle.”

“Really?” Penelope asked. “We can go over there and _touch_ her?”

“Of course,” Harry said, and grasped Daphne’s hand. “Come on.”

He led the four of them and Sirius over to Ramaranth who was watching, her neck curled up and around so that her head pointed down. One by one, with Daphne going first due to the fact that Harry simply pulled her hand along with him, they each reached up and stroked the great dragon.

“Wow! Oh, oh wow!” Astoria exclaimed. “None of my friends are going to believe this!”

“The number of people who have touched a dragon in the world is incredibly low,” Lord Greengrass said. “Subtract dragon keepers from that number and you would be lucky to be able to count them on the fingers of two hands.”

“Well, now you can add your entire family to that list,” Harry told him.

“My thanks, from all of us, Mister Potter. This experience alone has made this holiday extraordinary,” Lord Greengrass said.

“You’re very welcome,” Harry said. “I can even introduce you some of the others later. I can think of four in particular that would love to meet you.”

_§Speaker, I think it best that I return to the Weyr§,_ Ramaranth said.

_§Of course, my friend. Until soon§,_ Harry replied, using the dragon expression that he found he quite liked.

Then, after getting everyone to back up, he watched her take to the sky and wing away.

“Come on, Daphne, I want to show you everything and you can tell me what you’ve been doing,” Harry said.

“Father?” she asked.

“You may go with Mister Potter, just ensure that you are back in time for dinner,” Lord Greensgrass said.

That was enough for Harry to squeeze her hand and pull her away towards the hilltop from where they could see the entire canyon.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_3:55pm_

_Wednesday, 2 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

“Harry, Daphne,” Sirius said as they two ambled out of the trees still holding hands. “I thought you two’d be back ages ago.”

“Lord Greengrass said that we didn’t have to be back until dinner,” Harry replied.

“True enough and to be honest, I’d feel a bit of a hypocrite telling you off for spending time with your girl,” Sirius said.

“We’re not …” Harry began but stopped as he felt Daphne squeeze his hand, and also noted that Sirius was pointedly looking at their joined hands as well.

“You can sort that out between you later,” he said. “Right now, there’s something else more important for you to be doing.”

“What? Has something happened?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Sirius replied. “It seems that the Greengrasses aren’t your only visitors.”

“Someone else has arrived?” Harry asked. “Who?”

“Newt Scamander and his wife,” Sirius replied simply.

“Who?” Harry asked at the same time that Daphne gasped. “I’m guessing that you know who that is?”

“Newt Scamander!” Daphne repeated. “He’s probably the most famous magizoologist in the world. He even wrote one of our textbooks. _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them._ ”

“Oh, I’ve read that,” Harry replied brightly. “I quite liked it, very interesting. Not quite accurate in his section on dragons, though. But I’m finding that not many books are. I’d never paid attention to who wrote it.”

“Well, you’re about to meet him,” Sirius stated. “They turned up not long after the two of you wandered off. It was all we could do to stop him trying to follow you down to the canyon.”

“The dragons wouldn’t have hurt him,” Harry defended his friends.

“Not all of us can talk to dragons, kiddo, which means that, for the rest of us, we need to be careful in case we do something that they don’t like,” Sirius said.

“Where is Mister Scamander now?” Daphne asked.

“He’s in the main Hall. I best take you there now,” Sirius replied.

Together, the three of them walked the length of the camp. Sirius lengthened his stride just before they reached the main Hall so that he could open the door for the teens.

Almost hesitantly, Harry stepped inside, not quite sure what to expect.

Finding that three of the tables had been pushed together and all those not currently working were sitting around it, looking in rapt attention at an ancient man with white hair as he told some tale, was certainly not expected. Especially when one of those there was Alexander.

“Ah, Harry, you’re finally here,” his Boss’ voice boomed upon seeing him.

Instantly, the old man, Newt Scamander, Harry supposed, stopped his story and rose to his feet. He was a fair thin man with a distinct stoop, as though he’d developed the habit of trying to negate his height and to make himself appear smaller than he actually was.

“Mister Potter,” he said, coming forward, his hand extended. “It is so very, very nice to finally meet you.”

“Um, yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too, Mister Scamander. I’ve read your book, it’s very good. And please, call me Harry,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand.

“Harry, then,” he replied and Harry noted that his eyes never met his own for more than a second at a time. “Please, call me Newt.”

Harry glanced at Sirius and received a brief nod. If the old man who surely deserved respect for his accomplishments and great age wanted to be called by his first name, then who was he to argue?

“Sorry that I wasn’t here when you arrived,” Harry said.

“Nonsense,” Newt waved away his apology. “You were with the dragons, I suspect. Of course, they would demand your attention.”

“Not everyone gets caught up with creatures as you do, Newt,” an elderly lady admonished as she came up behind him.

“Harry does,” Sirius laughed.

“Not much can tear him away from his dragons,” Charlie added as he entered the room behind them.

“They don’t understand what it’s like, do they?” Newt whispered conspirically.

Harry grinned at him. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“I’m Tina,” the elderly lad said, introducing herself. “Newt’s long-suffering wife.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” Harry replied. “And this is Daphne.”

“Come, my boy, we have much to talk about,” Newt said, drawing Harry back across to the table.

It took very little time for everyone to be seated once again with Harry and Daphne having been given seats beside Newt and his wife.

“I understand that they call you ‘Speaker’,” Newt continued. “What does that mean?”

“That part merely means that I’m a parselmouth; that I can speak their language,” Harry replied.

“And the Mark?” Newt asked, gesturing to his new scar.

“The ancient books were wrong about that,” Harry replied. “In short, it basically means that I’m like an Ambassador to the Dragons. There’s maybe a little extra to it, but not by much.”

“Ha!” Newt exclaimed. “I knew those books were wrong. No creature or species would promote one from a different class into becoming their king.”

“I didn’t even ask them about that,” Harry admitted. “Seemed too disrespectful.”

“Exactly! You have the exact right attitude for working in this field. Not many understand,” Newt stated. “Now, before we go any further, there’s an important question that I need to ask.”

“Yes?” Harry asked, suddenly nervous.

“How much of my section of dragons is complete dragon dung?”

Harry glanced down, trying to decide how to answer without hurting the man’s feelings.

“That much, hey? Well, good. I’ve always loved learning new things about animals,” Newt smiled. “I would very much like it if you could teach me everything that you know. Maybe even translate for me if I have questions that you don’t know the answer to?”

“I could do that,” Harry replied.

“And then you two can write that book that we’ve been telling Harry that he needs to get started on,” Alexander interjected.

“Book? That’s a marvellous idea. The more people who read about creatures, in this case, dragons, the more that they understand and learn to treat them the way they should. Yes, yes, I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Newt nodded. “What say you, Speaker of Dragons?”

Harry looked at those around him. Sirius, Alexander, Charlie, Daphne, all the other dragon handlers. There was no doubt in his mind what any of their answers would be.

“I think that we could do that,” he finally said.

“Wonderful, simply wonderful,” Newt replied.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_9:10am_

_Thursday, 3 August 1995_

_Ministry of Magic, London, England_

.

Mathilda Grimblehawk, chair of the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain, looked around her office with some bewilderment. It didn’t seem all that long ago that this sub-Department – _committee,_ back then – had been abolished and she herself had been demoted and shuffled back into her old desk job within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures itself.

But then, exactly one week ago, she’d been summoned to the Minster for Magic’s office and told that they’d made a terrible mistake in dissolving the committee that they’d put together earlier that year. Phrases like ‘we didn’t give you enough time’ and ‘you were understaffed’ or ‘you deserved more support from this office’, etcetera were bandied about until, finally she was simply told that she was being promoted once again and that the committee was even being upgraded to sub-Department status.

Of course, she understood what was really happening. She’d read the _Prophet_ , she’d seen which way the wind was blowing. She knew exactly what it all stemmed from, what the _real_ aim was. To get Harry Potter back in Britain. If that happened, then the Minister’s job wouldn’t be being threatened.

And, to be completely honest – if only to herself – she didn’t actually care about the ‘real’ reason or even the ‘excuse’ that she’d been given. She’d show them that she could do this job, that she was worthy of being a department head instead of a simple parchment pusher.

Giving herself a shake, she brought herself back to the present. There was a job to be done.

Before she’d even left home this morning, she’d sat at her kitchen table for a solid hour, finally putting quill to parchment to create that list that she’d had floating about in her head ever since she’d been given this job. The list was fairly long and exhaustive and Mathilda was sure that there would be many more items that would need to be added to it.

After reading through it, she returned to the top, specifically to the first six items on it.

  1. Find out what the sub-Department’s budget is
  2. Get furniture to outfit the sub-Department
  3. Hire a staff through a proper application process
  4. Get a full map of the British Isles (as big as possible)
  5. Find a tract of land (or an island, perhaps?) that can be warded from muggles to become a new Dragon Reserve
  6. Find and survey all dragons currently living within the British Isles



The memo she’d found in her inbox yesterday had resulted in a long, long meeting with the Finance Department. Eventually, she’d come out of it with the numbers that she’d needed to know.

And while the figure that she was given wasn’t quite as much as she’d hoped, it was enough to be going on with. Mathilda figured that if she could get the sub-Department working well enough to get even a consultation from The-Boy-Who-Lived, especially if that consultation happened on British soil, then that _should_ result in additional funding down the track. It was simply a case of getting to that point.

Before she’d left the office yesterday, Mathilda had put out the job descriptions that she wanted filled. A staff of four, including her, wasn’t great, but it would work. Just that morning she’d seen the Wanted Ad in _The Daily Prophet_ as well as the bright yellow memo-planes flying about the Ministry itself. Which took care of one item on her list. At least as much as possible for now.

The Furniture Requisition Form she’d filled out in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. Sure, she could transfigure something herself but that would only be a temporary fix – the magic would eventually wear off if it wasn’t strong enough and Mathilda had no illusions as to her magical power.

And half-way to work that morning she’d had a brainwave which caused her to be nearly late. Thankfully, her stop at the magical travel agency hadn’t taken overly long. The map that she’d bought from there she now pulled out of her pocket before cancelling the shrinking charm that she’d applied. A map three feet square grew on the table before her. It was an awkward size, but that was what magic was for. A simple levitation charm followed by a permanent sticking charm had the map glued to the wall precisely where she wanted it.

Taking out her quill and ink pot, Mathilda happily drew a line through that item on her list of things to do. Then, taking out three more pots of different coloured ink, she approached the map.

Green ink for the locations of known Common Welsh Greens; purple for known locations of the second type of dragon native to Great Britain: the Hebridean Black; and lastly, the red ink for possible locations for their new dragon reserve, perhaps even one of the islands of the Hebrides where she was sure some dragons already lived. It’d just be a case of finding an uninhabited one and getting it suitably warded.

There was a lot of work to be done, of that, there was no doubt. But if there was one thing that Mathilda Grimblehawk was not afraid of, it was hard work.


	9. Potter Discussions

_3:35pm_

_Friday, 4 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

The table was spread with books, all of them about dragons. Some were more general, giving an overview of the species. Others focussed solely on a specific breed. A couple narrowed in on one specific aspect of dealing with dragons, for example hatching an egg or how to render a deceased dragon down to get the most profit out of it. That last one had been pushed far away, the abhorrence that it was deemed worthy of only the trash heap.

The most prominent of all the books, the two that were being used and referred to the most, were Harry’s copy of _Dragons, the Complete Compendium_ and Newt’s own _Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them_.

Of course, even these two were superseded by copious amounts of parchment, notebooks, pens and quills.

“So, you’re saying that dragons have their own government?” Newt clarified.

“Definitely,” Harry nodded. “They call it a ‘Council’ and have their own Weyr Leader and Elders. The Council chamber is tiered and the dragons only speak when the Leader, who remains on the floor in the centre where everyone can see him, says that they can. I’m not sure whether the ledges that the dragons sit on are hierarchical or if it’s a ‘first come, best seated’, type of thing.”

“Not unlike some human governments, then,” Newt mused. “I’d always wondered. I’d definitely noted that they seem to defer to some dragons if they roared louder but I had just taken it to be an alpha dominance type structure.”

“Hmm, maybe there is some of that, too?” Harry replied slowly. “I don’t know how the Weyr Leader is chosen? Elected? Appointed? Some kind of battle or challenge? But it’s definitely not the oldest, at least, not here.”

“Perhaps something to ask, young Harry,” Newt suggested.

“Right,” Harry agreed and promptly jotted some notes on his pad.

“Now, tell me about the time you got to go into the Weyr Council Cave,” Newt asked eagerly, leaning forwards.

“Well, I didn’t know what was going on,” Harry began. “One of the other dragons came and got me. It’s actually hidden deep inside the mountain and you can only get to it by going into the Weyr Leader’s cave and then through a really long tunnel. The dragons were already in place. I almost felt as though I was there for a job interview, which, when I think about it, wasn’t too far from what was happening.”

“What do you mean, Harry?” Newt asked and Harry noted that he picked up a quill and inked it at the same time.

“There were all these roundabout questions about me being the Speaker but them needing to see if I was worthy enough to Speak _for_ them,” Harry explained. “There’s a difference, you see. I can speak to them in parseltongue but because I could, it also meant that I could translate for them to other two-legs … er, humans. The dragons needed to test that I could be counted on to say exactly what they said and to speak up on their behalf when needed.”

“I’m guessing that they decided that you could be,” Newt smiled, nodding pointedly at his Mark.

“Yep,” Harry grinned and lifted his fringe up and away so that Newt could see it properly. “I asked Memzath what it meant, bearing this Mark of the Dragons. It basically means that I’m an ambassador.”

“Which you told me before,” Newt nodded. “And makes so much sense. Dragons are such sophisticated creatures, it’s easy to see that they have their own social structure to go along with their intelligence. At least for anyone who’s willing to take the time to look.”

“Which most don’t,” Harry agreed.

“No, unfortunately, they don’t. But we’ll change them yet, won’t we?” Newt exclaimed. “Tell me about getting your Mark.”

“It was the weirdest thing,” Harry frowned. “I still don’t completely understand everything that happened. The dragons … sensed that there was an … an evil _attached_ to me. Whatever it was, they couldn’t explain it, they just knew that it existed. And they didn’t like it. Not one bit. Memzath slashed my forehead, right where whatever it was was located, which I’m guessing was connected to my scar. I don’t remember anything else, only waking up with the Mark in my own bed. Sirius tells me that Ramaranth brought me home; she carried me in her paws up and out of the canyon.”

During all the time that Harry’d been speaking, Newt had been busy with his quill and parchment. Finally, he placed his quill down and pushed the parchment across to Harry. Taking it, Harry looked down and blinked. If he’d thought that _his_ handwriting was akin to chicken scratch, well, that was nothing compared to _Newt’s_!

It took much longer than he would have liked but eventually, Harry began to decipher the writing. And when he finally did, he blinked again. It was the story of his visit into the Weyr Council Cavern, everything about what it looked like and, added to the end, was the recount of how he’d been given his Mark, what it meant and also what it looked like.

“I know, my writing’s never been easy to understand,” Newt chuckled. “Luckily, Tina can understand my writing. She’s been doing it for years. If I know her, she’ll even rewrite it up for us, maybe make it sound a little easier for others to understand as well.”

“Um, okay?” Harry said, handing the parchment back.

Newt stared at him. “I was expecting a little more than that, Harry. What do you think? How do you imagine wizards and witches around the world will react to hearing the story and understanding that dragons have their own government?”

“I’m sorry, what? React? How will they hear it?” Harry asked, shaking his head.

“Oh, I didn’t mention that bit, did I?” Newt chuckled. “This will be your first column in _The Daily Prophet_. I’ve owled the editor and your godfather’s signed off, of course, assuming that you agree. A new article every two weeks.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“It doesn’t have to be anything too detailed. Actually, it’s probably better if it’s _not_ too detailed,” Newt explained. “Just talk about your interactions with the dragons. Those hatchlings of yours will make excellent writing points. Tell the world what it’s like for dragons growing up, what they do, how they develop and become a part of dragon society. People everywhere will eat it up and want to know more and, as a bonus, hopefully learn to understand and appreciate the dragons the way you and I do.”

Harry leant over and reread the article that Newt had written, this time with different eyes.

Others would read this? They’d read about his encounter with the dragons of the Weyr and him being given the Mark and what it meant? He tried to picture Neville or Susan with the newspaper in their hands, maybe over breakfast. No, there was nothing in there that he was ashamed of. Well, maybe the part about fainting and needing to be carried home. But who wouldn’t have if they’d been in the same situation?

“Okay, I think it looks good. And it would be pretty cool to have my own newspaper column,” Harry mused.

“Excellent! Then it’s settled,” Newt beamed. “I’ll give this to Tina for her to do her magic and then I’ll send it off to the _Prophet.”_

“Thanks, Newt,” Harry said earnestly. “You’ll help me with the next one, too?”

“It’d be my pleasure, young Harry,” Newt smiled. “And we can use these articles to help hone the book we’re going to be writing.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_8:15am_

_Saturday, 6 August 1995_

_Headmaster’s Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom_

.

Albus Dumbledore’s eyes read and reread the column in _The Daily Prophet_. This was _not_ how he expected to hear from Harry Potter, or more precisely, how he’d hear _about_ Harry Potter. The boy was _supposed_ to be coming back to Hogwarts at the beginning of next month. At least, that was the plan. Albus’ plan.

This, though, this threw even more doubts on that happening than he’d originally been having.

Once again, he let his eyes run down the column and key words and phrases leapt out at him.

_“A Dragon’s Tale, Living and Working with Dragons by Harry Potter … Weyr … their own Council, not unlike the Wizengamot that runs our own government … worthy … Speaker, not just to, but for dragons … Mark of the Dragon … scar.”_

And then that description. Oh, that description was unbelievable. The dragons had detected an ‘evil’ attached to young Harry. Of course, Albus knew precisely what that was. The fact that they’d obviously done something to dispel it was quite …

Albus froze. He wasn’t quite sure what the right word was. Worrying? Annoying? Frightening?

In any case, it opened a whole slew of questions that Albus never in his wildest dreams imagined would be asked. If that part of Tom was no longer attached to young Harry, what did that mean for the prophecy? Was it still in play? Were these dragons the thing that Tom ‘would know not’? Could Tom feel that part of him being destroyed?

Many of the answers, Albus felt, still lay with Harry Potter or, more precisely, with getting The-Boy-Who-Lived back to England and Hogwarts in particular. It was even more imperative than ever. There had to be a way.

Albus spun from the window and threw his copy of the newspaper to the floor. He then dropped his hands to his desk and his head bowed as he thought. Unexpectedly, his eyes fell onto the stack of parchment that he’d been given as the Chief Warlock.

And right there, sitting right on top, might just be his answer: a proposal for a new dragon reserve in the United Kingdom. A proposal that already had a small sub-department attached to it.

_Yes, yes,_ he mused. _There might be a way to use that._

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_11:05am_

_Saturday, 6 August 1995_

_Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England_

.

Amelia Bones sipped at her tea, as was polite, before carefully placing the cup back upon its saucer and then the two down onto her lap. The pleasantries had been observed, even the small talk. The game had been played. It was time to get down to business, to find out why she’d been invited here, to Longbottom Manor, in the first place.

“It has been quite some time since the two of us have been able to talk without interference,” she opened.

“There has not been a need before this,” Augusta replied.

“You’re saying that there is one now?” Amelia asked.

“I am,” the Dowager Lady replied. “Tell me, what do you know of Albus Dumbledore’s … interference with the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter over the past decade?”

Amelia blinked but otherwise she knew that her face remained impassive. It was hard to surprise the Head of the DMLE; Augusta had just managed it.

“I know of some,” she replied cautiously. “Perhaps if I knew to what specifically you were referring to, I might be able to answer more fully?”

“Pish, Amelia, enough with the games,” Augusta said, leaning forward and placing her own cup and saucer on the table between them. “We’re never going to get anything accomplished if we keep to the script.”

One side of Amelia’s mouth curled up in amusement. The two might not be quite the same age, but both were considered formidable women in their own right. For Amelia to suggest that they needed to simply ‘get down to business’ meant that there was definitely something very wrong.

“By all means,” Amelia said, bowing her head in acknowledgement. “In that case, shall I open with the fact that I received a very interesting letter written by Mister Potter himself, delivered by my Susan which had some, shall we say, very _damaging_ allegations against the Hogwart’s headmaster in it?”

“Indeed?” Augusta replied, with a raised eyebrow. “If that letter contains even half of what my Neville relayed to me about this past school year, then it would make for some very interesting reading.”

“Augusta, you don’t know the half of it,” Amelia stated dryly. “If I thought that I could get away with it, I’d be putting Albus Dumbledore on the stand to answer some very choice questions about some very illegal activities. Unfortunately, Dumbledore has built himself a web of support that spans decades and I know that, not only would he get off with, at best, a ‘slap on the wrist’, I’d be committing career suicide.”

“That bad?” Augusta asked. “That does sound a little more comprehensive than Neville’s own version.”

“It’s possible that he didn’t know the whole story,” Amelia replied. “I know that Susan didn’t. May I call for my house elf?”

Augusta raised an eyebrow in surprise but otherwise merely gave her consent.

“Tolly!”

Instantly, a small house elf wearing a soft, white toga-like dress with the Bones family crest prominent on its upper right chest appeared.

“Yes, Mistress?” Tolly asked.

“Kindly go to my personal study and retrieve the muggle envelope sitting in my top righthand drawer of my desk,” Amelia instructed.

“Yes, Mistress,” Tolly replied with a small curtsey.

Dual _pops_ in the space of thirty seconds indicated Tolly popping out and then back in with said envelope in hand.

“Thank you, Tolly, that will be all,” Amelia replied.

As the house elf _popped_ away, Amelia leant forward and handed over the envelope.

“I’ll need it back, obviously, but I don’t believe that Harry would mind you reading it.”

She leant back then and retrieved her tea to sip it while she awaited the Dowager Lady Longbottom to read the three-page letter.

“You’re right,” Augusta said a short time later. “Quite damaging indeed and, if all correct, much of it is illegal. Stealing a piece of paper with Harry’s name on it and entering him in the TriWizard Tournament; not to mention this prophecy, both are highly suspect before you even begin to consider the rest. And you’re right, there’s little that you can do about it. ‘He said, she said’. Not exactly useful in a court of law.”

“No,” Amelia frowned. “Even the man’s interference in the Tasks for the TriWizard Tournament, how he created favourable conditions to ensure that Harry not only survived but had a chance of being competitive would be considered as being anything but good by those old fuddy-duddies. Anything that should ensure a British win, would be applauded, even.”

“Not that young Harry exactly went along with those plans,” Augusta chuckled. “Painting and fishing!”

“Yes, he did make the Tournament out to be a bit of a farce,” Amelia agreed. “At least our own young ones had the opportunity to becomes friends with him, as they always should have done.”

“And there’s another problem to lay at Dumbledore’s feet, placing the scion of a Most Ancient and Noble House in the hands of muggles, I ask you?” Augusta near-growled.

“Indeed,” Amelia nodded. “I take it by your original question that you have something additional to what is in Harry’s letter to me that you wish to discuss?”

“I do,” Augusta replied and closed her eyes for a moment as though she were gathering her thoughts. “The House of Potter has been one that has been most prominent within our society for more centuries than most others. It may not be one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but that is mere quibbling in this day and age when so many of that number have become extinct.”

“You won’t hear any argument from me,” Amelia agreed. “I believe that both of our husbands campaigned for the Potters to be added to the number, replacing one of the fallen Houses.”

“Without success,” Augusta nodded. “However, even without that status, the House of Potter _does_ have two major seats, in two of our most important facets of our society that it has been granted in perpetuity. Neither of which it currently sits.”

Amelia frowned. Obviously, Augusta was referring to the Wizengamot as one of those seats, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall what the second was.

“The Wizengamot and the Hogwarts Board of Governors,” Augusta continued. “I have done a little investigating, especially in light of what Neville has told me. Young Mister Potter has no knowledge – as far as I am aware – of the place that the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter holds, nor of the seats that he should be sitting.”

“Should be sitting?” Amelia repeated, her mind whirling.

Harry was the same age as Susan – fifteen – and one age could not take their place on either seat until such time as they came of age, at seventeen. But then it clicked. Harry was _already_ ‘of age’. He’d be emancipated when he agreed to participate in the TriWizard Tournament.

“I would think that Sirius Black would be educating Harry on his duties and the role of his House,” Amelia said carefully.

“Hmph,” Augusta snorted. “You know Sirius Black even better than I do but my opinion of him was never high, not even before his years of incarceration. One can always hope that he is doing his duty.”

“I’m certain of it,” Amelia replied.

“Whether he is or not,” Augusta waved away her assurances, “there is a matter that should be addressed.”

“Which is?” a curious Amelia asked.

“Those seats on the Wizengamot and the Board of Governors,” Augusta stated. “Both are currently occupied by proxy, the same proxy that has been in place for nearly fourteen years and I’d bet the entire Longbottom vault that Harry Potter has neither met Elphias Doge who sits in both of those seats, not appointed him at any time whatsoever!”

“Doge is sitting the Potter seat,” Amelia repeated, her eyes wide.

Augusta was right. And the fact that Doge had been there so long meant that she’d never questioned it, nor considered what seat he was sitting in.

“Dumbledore,” she whispered.

“Correct,” Augusta replied smugly. “Dumbledore. He appointed Doge to those seats as the Potter Proxy.”

“He needs to be ousted. But the only one who could do it is Harry Potter himself,” Amelia stated slowly, understanding exactly what Augusta was saying. “And replacing Doge would also take away a major part of Dumbledore’s voting power which would then give me more leeway to do my job rather than constantly being hamstrung by the number of second chances that Dumbledore seems determined to give to every Tom, Dick and Larry that turns up in front of the Court on any charge you can imagine.”

“I’m glad that you see my point,” Augusta smiled.

“What do you have in mind?” Amelia asked.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_4:55am_

_Sunday, 7 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

Harry grinned, enjoying the feeling of Daphne’s arms around his waist, her body pressed against his back as he flew through the trees up the side of the mountain. Her breath against the back of his neck also seemed to have this interesting response in his own breathing, making it faster and shallower.

The dim light didn’t make it easy to see the trees but even after such a short time here at the Reserve, Harry knew the way well. Side to side, he swayed, never a jerk or a jolt, simple movements so as not to alarm or worse, dislodge his passenger.

At last, the trees thinned before disappearing behind them altogether. The ground below also vanished, dropping deep into the canyon.

Their timing, though, was absolutely perfect.

Just as Harry brought his broom to nothing more than a gentle hover, the first rays of the sun peeked over the edge of the far mountain. A soft burnt orange filled the sky before changing into yellows that dissipated as the dark blue of the sky began to lighten.

“This is beautiful, Harry,” Daphne whispered into his ear.

“Just wait,” Harry told her.

His eyes dropped down into the darker patch below their feet, searching for what he knew was coming. A hint of movement further out was his first sign and he smiled. Two more emerged from the depths of the canyon, the suggestion of great wings beating, bearing them upwards.

“Look,” he said, leaning back into her and pointing down.

And then they began appearing. More and more dragons, flying up to meet the start of the day. A few Harry recognised instantly, knowing their names even. Others took a little longer but they, too, were friends. They were all friends. And now his dearest friend was going to get to go flying with his biggest friends.

Willing his broom forward, he shot them towards the dragons and was instantly recognised.

_§Speaker§!_

_§Speaker§!_

_§Good morn to you, Speaker§!_

_§You have brought your two-leg mate to fly with us, Speaker§!_

Harry blushed at that last comment. He was so glad that Daphne wasn’t a parselmouth. His mouth even opened to tell Ramaranth that no, Daphne wasn’t his mate, only his friend, well, maybe more but they’d deliberately stayed away from labelling what they were. Dragons, though, didn’t understand that concept, despite how much he’d tried to explain.

“Harry? Why has the back of your neck gone red all of a sudden?” Daphne asked.

“No reason,” he replied quickly, desperately hoping that she’d drop the subject.

To help with that, he increased speed, zipping in and around the dragons as they flew ever higher. He felt her arms tighten and he smiled, loving the feeling.

All at once, they reached the spot where the sun become fully visible above the mountain and the dragons paused, hovering where they were, their great wings lazily flapping just enough to hold them in place. One by one and then together, they trumpeted, creating a noise that was both extremely loud while being melodious and in harmony with each other.

“What are they saying?” Daphne near-yelled in his ear.

Harry leant back and half-turned his head to make it easier for her to hear him.

“It’s not so much words, although there are some in there,” Harry replied. “They’re greeting the day. The best approximation that I’ve ever come up with is that this is like singing to them.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Daphne’s head cocked, her eyes closed as she listened.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah, beautiful,” he replied, knowing that he meant more than just the dragon’s song, more than just the rising sun over the mountains below.

“Thank you for bringing me up here, for sharing this with me,” she said, her now-open eyes sparkling at him.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “There’s no one else I’d want to share it with.”

He felt more than heard her sigh as she laid her head against his back.

Soon, it’d be time to return to the world below and start the day the human way but this, this was something special that he’d come to love. And today far more than he ever had before.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_2:31am_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

Harry jolted away. His heart was pounding. There was a roaring in his ears. Sweat poured off of him. Even before his eyes opened, he knew that he was sitting up, the blankets half tangled around him.

Jerkily, his eyes wide, he searched around his room. Black, pitch black. The middle of the night.

Something had woken him. He was sure of it. And not a dream. It was real.

**_**§** SPEAKER!§_ **

The roar of a hundred dragon voices calling for him all at once was loud enough even from this distance for Harry to need to clamp his hand over his ears. Not that that drowned it out, the sound even reverberating _inside_ his very head.

**_**§** SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§_ **

Instantly, Harry was up and scrambling for the door, one single thought burning in his head: get to the dragons!


	10. The Speaker Has Spoken!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to remind everyone that while I update weekly, I am currently alternately updates between ‘Dragon Whisperer’ and ‘Heroes Assemble!’. I am also in the process of writing original stories. If you want to find out more about that or where I’m up to with my fanfiction writing, I update my Facebook page (which you can find through my profile here) very regularly.

_2:34am_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

Harry raced through the door of the hut, his feet skidding on the dirt as he changed direction.

“Harry! Wait!”

He heard Sirius’ voice, but ignored it. Waiting wasn’t an option. The dragons needed him. Even now he could hear their roars echoing from the valley or was that inside his head? Viciously, he shook his head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to them as quickly as he could.

A sharp stone dug into the ball of his foot and he hopped a couple of steps, glaring daggers at the ground itself. He hoped that he didn’t step on anything else that he couldn’t see.

And then it hit him. What in the world was he doing running in the first place? He was a wizard with a flying broom and everything.

Harry thrust out his hand behind him even as he kept running forwards, willing his magic to summon his broom to him.

The darkness was something else that a wizard shouldn’t have to put up with either. A flick of the wrist of his off-hand conjured a ball of light; a push-flick of his fingers sent it sailing ahead of him.

A whistling of wind behind him had Harry twisting about to see his broom shooting straight at him from behind. Unerringly, he snagged it straight out of the air even as he jumped and threw a leg over it. Even before his feet found the stirrups, he was laying low over the Nimbus Two Thousand and willing it to speeds even faster than he’d ever flown before.

He raced at the trees that forested the mountainside. Flying through that, especially at this speed, at night, he knew, was akin to suicide. Harry did the only thing that made sense, he pulled back on the shaft and soared straight up. Even at that angle, his feet still clipped a few high branches, sending a rain of leaves falling to the forest floor below, not that Harry even noticed.

His ball of light may have been moving fast but with the speed that Harry was urging his broom to, it meant that he nearly overtook it.

And then the end of the trees was directly below him and Harry dived. The wind whipped at his hair and pants and his bare chest and he was forced to squeeze his eyes into slits. He passed the edge of the cliff and kept going, shooting straight down the side of the canyon.

Even with the light from his light ball, it was near-impossible to tell exactly where the floor of the canyon was. Harry strained his eyes, searching for it. And then it appeared as if out of nowhere at the very edge of the light and Harry pulled up sharply. The nose of the broom barely cleared the ground, as did his toes and a whirlwind of dust was kicked up in his wake behind him.

**_**§** SPEAKER!§_ **

**_**§** SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§_ **

The roar of the dragons was almost overwhelming from down here and, with the echoes that reverberated up and down the canyon, impossible to tell exactly where it was coming from. But it wasn’t just dragon roars heard through his ears, he was sure of it. It also sounded as though the voices were coming from _inside_ his own head.

Whatever it was, all it did was increase Harry’s sense of urgency.

He knew this canyon. He’d flown down it every day since he’d been here. Multiple times. Now he used that knowledge.

It was all but pitch black, only the light from his ball that was now at his shoulder was allowing him to see anything and at that, only what was in its circle of influence. Everything outside was pitch black, hidden from him even with the small amount of light that the moon was providing.

His night vision, he realised. The ball had destroyed his night vision.

The barest of thoughts banished his ball and Harry blinked rapidly, struggling to right his vision.

Still, he flew on, faster and faster.

Left. Left. Straight and right. Down and under the rock bridge that spanned the canyon. Another left and a sharp curve to the right.

**_**§** SPEAKER! WE NEED YOU!§_ **

**_**§** SPEAKER!§_ **

The roars this time were so close that the sound was almost tangible. Harry had no idea how many dragons were calling for him but it sure felt and sounded like _all of them_.

And without question, he knew that whatever had the dragons upset, angry, _furious_ was right around the next corner.

Harry mentally overlaid a copy of the canyon with where he thought he was.

Ramaranth’s cave! He was certain of it.

Rounding the corner Harry knew that the canyon walls were covered in dragons. Whirling eyes of red and orange stared down from all around like the fallen stars come to Earth to burn it to a crisp.

Many of those eyes were turned in his direction; most, though, were focussed on Ramaranth’s cave.

A great, dark lump on the canyon floor lay where it shouldn’t and it took Harry a moment to realise that it was a dragon.

_§Who is that§?_ he demanded.

_§Ramaranth, Speaker§._

Harry froze, staring at the body on the ground

_§What happened? Is she alive§?_ he asked.

_§Two-legs, Speaker! There are many two-legs here§._

_§They snuck in when we slept. Attacked Ramaranth§._

Harry’s jaw set and his eyes narrowed; a rage roared in his ears. How _dare_ some people come here and harm the dragons, hurt Ramaranth! He was so focussed on the body of Ramaranth and what he was being told that he wasn’t even taking the time to work out who was speaking to him.

_§The fledglings§?_ Harry asked quickly.

_§They remain inside the cave. Where the two-legs are§._

_§We dare not flame for fear of harming the fledglings§._

_§I will get them§!_ Harry snarled.

Instantly, he shot forward on his broom, directly for the cave. His body was low to give him not only extra speed but also to reduce his profile.

**_**§** Fledglings! On your bellies§!_** Harry yelled.

As he raced towards the cave, Harry made out a dim light inside. Obviously, the two-legs, the _humans_ had either lit a fire or lit their wands. Which was all to the good as far as Harry was concerned – they wouldn’t see him coming out of the dark straight at them.

Harry knew Ramaranth’s cave well, better than any other and he used that to his advantage.

Just before he flew inside, he lifted one hand and sent a stream of bright balls of light sailing inside. His magic held them for a second, two and then extinguished them. The confused yells from the men inside had Harry grinning.

And then he was in.

Instantly, he flung himself off his broom to the left. He landed on a mass of flesh. The fact that it was not much bigger than himself told him that it was a human and he let loose with a blast of pure red, a stunner just as Sirius had shown him.

An ‘oof’ and a grunt of pain told him that his broom had hit another.

Harry scrambled to his feet and instantly took in the situation. Two men down; another dozen or so still standing, all with their hands over their eyes or doubled over as they rubbed their faces.

But even while glancing about, Harry wasn’t being idle.

His hands were shooting out one after the other, his magic obeying every intent, every thought that he had. Anything that he’d ever learnt, was used, no matter how obscure.

A shrinking charm hit a shirt, constricting a man, making him drop his wand.

An enlarging charm hit a hat, making it fall down over a pair of eyes that now couldn’t see to aim.

A jet of intense fire hit a pair of men, setting their clothes on fire.

A tangle of ropes and fishing line engulfed three separate wizards.

Jets of red stunning spells impacted another two.

Streams of water, strong enough to knock a witch off her feet was combined with a freezing charm to encase her in ice.

A summoning charm sent a wizard flying towards Harry, only for him to simply sidestep him and allow him to impact the rock wall behind him.

A whirlwind so strong that it lifted two wizards straight up, spinning them too fast for the eye to see only stopped when the men hit the roof, dropping them straight to the floor.

More stunning spells took out a pair that had their shoelaces tied together, toppling them over each other.

When Harry finally, straightened, panting heavily, it was to see that the cave was full of witches and wizards, either unconscious or moaning in pain. He blinked at them, assessed them as no longer being a danger and giving a single, satisfied nod.

_§Speaker§?_

This time, Harry instantly recognised the voice.

_§Yes, Painzz? Are you four okay? You’re not hurt§?_ he asked.

_§We are, Speaker. Can we get up now§?_ she asked.

_§You can§,_ Harry replied. _§Just wait here for a moment, I want to check on something outside the cave§._

_§What of the two-legs§?_ Potteth asked.

Harry glanced around the cave once more. The fledglings shouldn’t be in any danger if he ducked outside for just a minute.

_§If they look like being a problem, flame them§,_ he instructed.

_§But our flames are not hot enough yet to do any harm. We’re too young§,_ Spekith complained.

_§True. But they don’t know that§,_ Harry replied.

With that, Harry quickly ducked back outside.

_§Speaker? Are the fledglings unharmed§?_

This time, Harry was calm enough to recognise who had spoken to him.

_§Yes, Grouleth, they are. And the two-legs won’t bother you again§,_ he said. _§How is Ramaranth§?_

_§Ramaranth lives, Speaker§,_ Memzath declared and instantly the Weyr bugled in celebration.

Harry, though, wasn’t quite ready to join them. His closest dragon friend had still not moved from where she’d been lying when he first saw her.

_§I’m guessing that she needs to be looked at by a doctor, er Healer, er one of the dragon keepers. If I summon them, you can assure them safe passage§?_ he asked.

_§Of course, Speaker§,_ Memzath said, inclining his great head. _§You have spoken and have our word§._

That was more than enough for Harry.

He took a deep breath. He’d never actually successfully tried this before but with how his magic was currently pumping, he was going to give it a go. Summoning his magic, he concentrated on the broom ride that he’d shared with Daphne, well, yesterday morning now and cast.

“ _Expecto patronum!”_

Instantly, his magic burst forth from his outstretched hand in a cloud of bright silver. He watched as his magic condensed, pulling in on itself and forming into a very familiar shape. A dragon! His patronus was a dragon! That was … well, he wasn’t sure if it was expected, unexpected or something in between.

Either way, he watched, wide-eyed, his jaw slack as the silver, ethereal dragon soared out and around before returning to ‘land’, its eyes on him, watching, waiting.

“Go to Charlie. Tell him that Ramaranth has been hurt and that there’s a bunch of unconscious witches and wizards in her cave,” he instructed.

At once, his dragon patronus nodded and flew away, its wings beating once, twice, thrice before it simply soared out of sight even as the ‘real’ dragons bugled in delight at the sight.

_§I’m going to send the fledglings out here§,_ Harry said. _§You will watch over them until Ramaranth is better§?_

_§It is as you say, Speaker§,_ Memzath replied.

Harry nodded to the Weyr Leader, turned and strode back into the cave. The small fire that had been lit in the centre of it that had been providing the light had dwindled. That didn’t stop Harry from freezing at the sight before him.

One of the wizards was currently half missing, only his legs were waving about from underneath Harreth where he sat on him. Spekith had her rear end and tail in the air, her front down on her paws, her snout mere inches from another wizard who had managed to free himself from the ropes that had bound him. As for Potteth, he was currently sitting happily in the corner munching away, bits of wood clattering to the floor with every chew.

_§The two-leg wanted to use his stick on us, Speaker§,_ Painzz defended her brother.

_§Works for me§,_ Harry shrugged.

A number of quick _accios_ had a pile of wands speeding towards him.

_§Come along, you four§,_ Harry said. _§But before you go out there, you need to know that Ramaranth was injured by the two-legs. She’ll be alright but she is currently sleeping§._

_§We trust you, Speaker§,_ Spekith stated.

As the four dragons trotted past, Harry swept the witches and wizards in the cave a hard look.

“In case you lot are getting any silly ideas. Just remember, you have no wands and there are about a hundred dragons just outside that door who _will_ roast you alive if you put so much as a _nose_ past that entrance,” he stated.

“Who … who are you?” one of the wizards asked.

“I’m Harry Potter, Speaker of Dragons,” he stated.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_3:10am_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

“You’re sure that this is a good idea?” Sirius asked, not for the first time.

Charlie, on his broom and leading the group of six dragon handlers plus Alexander, Sirius and Remus, looked back and grinned at him.

“You heard Harry’s message just as I did,” he said. “And you also know as well as I do that Harry wouldn’t tell us to come unless he’d already warned the rest of the dragons first.”

“Dragon! A dragon patronus!” Remus crowed. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sirius grouched. “And I’ve already given you your gold so you don’t have to keep going on about it.”

Charlie’s grin only grew as he remembered the ethereal dragon that had flown down to him. Everyone, every dragon handler in the entire Reserve had seen it. And none had seen its like before. It was a marvel and it was actually miraculous that Charlie’d caught Harry’s message when it began speaking to him.

But then the import of what that message was had hit home. One dragon was down and there were poachers in the Reserve itself. A lot of them by the sound of it. Naturally, everyone there had volunteered to go; in the end Alexander had chosen the six with the most healing knowledge along with himself and Charlie. Sirius and Remus had flatly refused to be left behind, what with Harry still down there, in his pyjamas no less., facing who knew what.

“Right, wands lit and held high,” Alexander commanded as they approached the last corner before Ramaranth’s cave.

Charlie didn’t want any ambiguity with who they were, not when they were approaching what was sure to be a whole mess of angry dragons. He slowed the group right down, his wand arm held high and his other arm ready to pull his broom around at a moment’s notice.

What he wasn’t expecting was to find six bright orbs of light hovering a couple of metres above the canyon floor with a downed dragon right in the centre of them. The fact that there were easily six or eight dozen dragons perched everywhere – on the canyon floor, ledges on the walls, even up on the clifftops, completely surrounding them was also expected.

And extremely disconcerting.

“Hi guys!” Harry called, stepping out from behind a large Horntail that Charlie didn’t immediately recognise. “Glad you finally got here.”

“Harry? You’re okay?” Sirius asked.

“Sure! Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry replied, then, “don’t worry, the dragons know you’re here to help, they won’t get in your way.”

“That’s good to know,” Alexander said, landing and instantly placing his broom on the ground. “Where’s these poachers you mentioned?”

“In Ramaranth’s cave but don’t worry about them. They’re not going anywhere,” Harry replied.

“Not going anywhere,” Remus repeated. “What do you mean, Harry?”

Harry shrugged. “They had the fledglings in there, so I went in and … well, I managed to surprise them you see and used some spells to take them down. Here’s all their wands.”

Charlie blinked at the wad of wands being handed to him.

“They’re still in there?” he asked, nodded towards Ramaranth’s cave.

“Yep,” Harry grinned. “And that’s where they’re staying. I’ve told them that if they come out, the dragons will flame them.”

“Will they?” Sirius asked, looked around at the dragons surrounding them.

“I did say that they could if they wanted to and after what they did to Ramaranth, I’m betting that they’d want to,” Harry replied. “How is she?”

Derryn, one of the other dragon handlers, looked up from where he and his fellow handlers were clustered around her.

“She’s just stunned. She’ll be okay by morning, I’d guess,” he said.

Charlie started as Harry looked up at the big Horntail and began hissing at him. As often as he heard Harry speaking parseltongue, every single time it still got to him.

“Now that we know she’ll be alright; would the dragons allow us to take those poachers away?” Alexander asked.

“Just a sec,” Harry replied before once again looking up at the Horntail.

After another conversation that none of the humans could understand, Harry turned to them.

“Memzath doesn’t mind if you take them away, as long as they don’t return. If they do, then he won’t be so lenient again.”

“Lenient?” Charlie asked, half afraid of the answer.

“Yeah,” Harry replied and his green eyes were as hard has flint, something that Charlie had never seen before. “He’s only allowing it because I asked him to. He’d much prefer that they face dragon justice, not only for hurting Ramaranth but also for threatening the fledglings.”

“Dragon justice?” Sirius asked.

“Roasted to death by dragon flame and then eaten,” Harry replied casually.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_6:10am_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

Alexander rubbed his hands over his face, hiding the yawn from any who could see. His eyes felt raw and his chin scratchy, not exactly unexpected when he’d been up most of the night. As unobtrusively as he could, he gave his head a little shake and arched his back, getting some of the kinks out. Hopefully he could manage to catch a couple of hour’s sleep later, but right now, there was still a job to do.

With the letter that he’d just finished writing in hand, he stepped through the open door of his office, his eyes instantly sweeping over their ‘guests’.

Fourteen. How in Merlin’s great saggy balls the kid had got the drop on fourteen adult witches and wizards and taken them all down, he had no idea. And the magic that he used? Basic charms that any kid still in school could use, just in a way that wasn’t even out-of-the-box but out-of-the-bloody-building kind of thing.

And what’s more, Harry didn’t even have his wand with him. Forgot to take it with him, if one could believe that! Wandless! The kid was powerful, of that there was no doubt. Scarily so. That patronus of his proved that.

“Elise!” he called, seeing one of the other handlers sitting, watching the prisoners, her wand in her hand and across her knees.

“Yeah, Boss?” she asked.

“Can you take this and get it sent out, please?” he asked, holding out the letter. “The sooner the aurors get here, the better. I want this scum off the Reserve.”

“No worries, Boss,” she nodded, taking the letter and instantly turning and striding off towards the owlery.

“You’re giving us to the aurors, are ya?” one of the poachers, a man with long, stringy hair and a nose that looked like it’s been broken at least half a dozen times sneered.

“It’s better than the alternative,” Alexander retorted.

The man – the ringleader, Alexander guessed him to be – didn’t move a muscle. His compatriots, though, did, shifting about uncomfortably but whether that was because they were trying to imagine what the alternative was or because they found the muggle zip ties around their ankles and binding their hands behind their backs uncomfortable was hard to tell

“And what’s this alternative, huh? Was ya thinking you could mete out yer own justice?” the man sneered. “You’d never do that, too much a goody goody; why else would ya be here, _caring_ for the beasts when you could be earning millions of galleons from _harvesting_ them?”

Alexander stared hard at the man, his eyes narrowed.

“If I was you, I’d curb that tongue of yours,” he growled.

“Why? Ain’t like you’re going to do anything? And don’t bother threatening us with throwing us to the dragons. Never gonna happen, we both know that, don’t we?” the man replied with a half-laugh.

Alexander couldn’t help himself. He laughed at the poor, deluded sod. It burst forth, fully formed and was so hard that he felt tears at the corner of his eyes. Whether it was because of the absurdity of the man’s statement or because Alexander was tired or a combination of the two, he couldn’t tell and didn’t care.

“What? What’s so funny?” the poacher asked.

Wiping away the moisture from his eyes, Alexander grinned down at the man.

“You being alive right now’s got absolutely nothing to do with me,” he told him. “If things’d gone any differently last night, you would never have left that cave alive. In fact, if you’d harmed one scale on any of those fledglings, you’d be dead. And you can thank your lucky stars that Ramaranth survived or nothing in this world would have saved you.”

“Ramaranth?” one of the other poachers asked.

“The dragon that you stunned. That’s her name,” Alexander told him. “She’s particularly close to young Harry and his wrath would have been terrible.”

“The kid who beat us last night? He got lucky, that’s all, caught us by surprise. He wouldn’ta killed us neither. He ain’t a killer, one look at him’s enough for anyone to see that,” the ringleader mocked.

Alexander snorted. “Try harming one of his dragons and look again.”

“His dragons?” the ringleader asked incredulously.

“You heard him last night, Luka,” one of the others said. “He was _talking_ to them. Like he was one himself. And they was _listening to him_.”

“They do more than listen,” Alexander stated. “Harry’s the Speaker to the Dragons. Every dragon. In. The. Entire. World. Every one of them will listen to him. He bears their Mark. And when he Speaks, they don’t just listen, they _obey_!”

Strictly speaking, that last part wasn’t true. Alexander knew that. But the poachers didn’t. And if putting the fear of Merlin, or in this case Harry Potter into this lot managed to spread to the rest of the scum like them, then Alexander had no quibbles with bending the truth just a little.

“Harry’s the only reason you’re still alive right now,” Alexander continued. “He asked the dragons to not flame you, telling them that we’d make sure that you received the punishment that you deserved. Human punishment, that is. And as I said, when the Speaker speaks, the dragons obey. You just think about that while you’re waiting for the aurors to arrive.”

Alexander swept his gaze over the fourteen of them. The fear in most of their eyes, the extreme gulping, the sweat breaking out on foreheads almost _almost_ made him smile. But that could wait until later. For now, he was content to know that his message had been well and truly received and understood.


	11. What Did You Do?

_8:15am_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

There was something different. Daphne wasn’t sure what it was but she knew it was there. Instinctively, she slowed her pace, her eyes flitting about the Dragon Reserve. No one was running. At least, not quite. But there was definitely a quickened pace to everyone that she saw.

There, a group of four Handlers were striding towards the tree line that marked the bottom of the hill. Another two walked past, their heads bent together, their speech – although not quite understood – was definitely fast. Three flew in low from just over her left shoulder and she ducked, glaring up at them even though there hadn’t been any possibility of collision. The fact that all three seemed to keep moving just as fast on the ground, their brooms now in their hands as they had been in the air, indicated that they were in a hurry.

Yes, Daphne was sure of it. _Something_ was going on. Or had gone on or … or something. Whatever it was gave a taste of excitement, not danger, which only increased Daphne’s curiosity.

But this early in the morning? She shook her head before turning to ask her father’s opinion. She blinked at finding that he was no longer walking beside her. Where her own steps had faltered to the point where she’d nearly stopped, his had only lengthened.

With a huff, Daphne stomped off after him. At least he was easy to find – his broad shoulders in the deep grey cloak was more than halfway to the Big Hall and getting further away with every step but for all that, very easy to see.

Lengthening her own strides meant that she was able to enter the Hall not long after him. The sight of a pair of Handlers all but running at the door had her quickly sidling alongside the wall out of the way.

Here, too, that same air of urgency prevailed. There was movement everywhere, people shifting between the tables or talking animatedly amongst themselves or unexpectedly running off after being given some instruction.

No, she amended, her eyes coming to rest on the end of the far table.

A smaller body was sitting there, hunched over so that his messy dark hair was resting on his arms. There was a blanket draped over him that all but obscured him but still, Daphne knew who it was. She’d know him anywhere.

Her eyes stayed focussed on him even as she weaved her way between the tables and around bodies. Within minutes, she was sliding onto the bench beside him.

His eyes were closed, one cheek scrunched up on his bare arms. Daphne started. Bare arms? Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt?

“Harry?” she said gently, letting her hand rest softly on his near side before sliding up his back and around him to curve over his far shoulder.

“Hmm, that feels nice,” he murmured even without opening his eyes. “You better be careful my girlfriend doesn’t catch you doing that.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” Daphne replied, unable to hide the smile that instantly blossomed on her face. “I hadn’t heard that you’d actually asked anyone to be your ‘girlfriend’ yet.”

One eye popped open and Daphne gasped. It was bloodshot and there were deep black circles under it.

“Harry? What’s happened? Are you alright?” she asked, forgetting what she really wanted to talk about in her worry for him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he replied.

She shifted slightly as he pushed himself upright, a massive yawn escaping him. His arms stretched right out and she swore that she could hear his back popping as he arched backwards.

“Now, where were we?” he asked as his arm came down and slipped around her waist.

Harry blinked and for a second, his emerald eyes shone as his face lit up with a soft smile.

“I believe that we were talking about how remiss I was,” he replied, answering his own question. “Daphne, would you be my girlfriend?”

She stared at him, her mind oscillating between worry for his haggard appearance – shirtless, bloodshot eyes, hair more tussled than normal – and the wonder, the excitement, the brilliance of his question.

“Yes! Of course, yes,” she replied and quickly raised a finger to stop his lips in their tracks towards her own (something that she _really_ didn’t want to do but her Merlin-be-damned curiosity insisted that she do). “Provided you tell me what’s going on. Why do you look so tired? Why are you _shirtless_?”

Harry pouted against her finger before pursing his lips to kiss it ever so tenderly. Thankfully, before she could give in, he relented and sat back up. The fact that he left his arm around her waist was something that she wasn’t going to complain about.

“There were poachers,” he replied simply, giving an accompanying shrug.

Daphne stared at him, waiting. But frustratingly, that seemed to be it.

“And?” she all but growled.

“And I had to go help out,” he replied.

“Harry …” she began, her frustrations rising.

“What my dear, deluded godson is _not_ telling you is that the dragons called for him and he went to them as you see him – shirtless, shoeless and still in his pyjama shorts. Well, not quite as you see him; he didn’t have that blanket,” Sirius said appearing on the other side of the table and swinging his leg over the bench to sit down across from them.

Daphne’s head swivelled between the two.

“Called for him?” Daphne repeated. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It means that every dragon here roared at the same time, apparently in parseltongue, calling for Harry there. Woke the entire Reserve up. Surprised you didn’t hear it down where you’re staying,” Sirius replied before his gaze switched to Harry. “You know, godson, I’m most disappointed in you.”

“What? Why? What’d I do?” a clearly-startled Harry yelped, looked decidedly awake for a moment.

“Here you are, a beautiful girl with her arm around you and you have the perfect story to make her even more impressed with you and find you irresistible and charming and brave – and a story that you don’t even need to embellish at that! And here you are, refusing to tell it. No, I am most disappointed. I have failed as a godfather,” Sirius finished with a slow, sad shake of his head that Daphne couldn’t resist laughing at.

“Are you saying that I don’t know how to charm women?” Harry asked.

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sirius replied. “Unless you can prove me wrong?”

“Firstly, _godfather_ , we haven’t been around each other long enough for you to have failed or succeeded in teaching me whatever it is that you’re trying to imply,” Harry told him, a statement that had Sirius visibly wincing. “Secondly, I would like to point out that _I’m_ the one with the beautiful girl in my arms, not you, so whatever I’m doing, I’m obviously doing it right.”

Daphne couldn’t help it. She laughed. Sirius’ hurt and indignant look was just too much for her.

“He’s got you there, Padfoot,” Remus said, joining them.

“He doesn’t have to rub it in, though,” Sirius grouched.

“If he didn’t, then I would,” Remus said lightly. “Now, Harry, as your honorary Uncle, I will give you this one piece of advice to do with as you will. It’s not nice to keep a lady waiting. If you haven’t told Daphne what happened last night and I’m going to assume that she’s asked, then it behoves you to do so quickly.”

“Well?” Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow, her gaze firmly fixed on her new boyfriend.

Harry sighed, dropped his head momentarily, before lifting it to look back at her.

“It’s as I said, there were poachers,” Harry began. “And yes, the dragons bellowed. They wanted, no _needed_ me there. So, I went as quickly as I could, which meant not worrying about stopping to put on a shirt. They’d already stunned Ramaranth and they had the fledglings trapped in the cave. I suspect that the poachers were going to kill the fledglings and sell them on the Black Market.”

“I really wish they had a different name for that,” Sirius muttered but both Daphne and Harry ignored him.

“The dragons wouldn’t go in for fear of hurting the fledglings themselves, so … so,” here Harry paused and ran a hand through his hair.

“So …” Daphne prompted before her brain filled in the most dangerous, most ridiculous thing that she could think of. “Please don’t tell me that you went into a cave full of grown witches and wizards by yourself armed with only your wand!”

“Okay, I won’t, ’cause I didn’t,” Harry replied happily.

For the briefest of seconds, Daphne was happy. The Harry she knew didn’t race off into danger. No. He painted or went fishing or made weird shoes that walked on plants or something else utterly ridiculous. But never dangerous. Of that she was positive.

But hearing Remus and Sirius sniggering and seeing Harry’s smug face morph into one of near fear told her that she was wrong. For some inexplicable, idiotic reason, this time Harry had _raced_ into danger.

“Harry,” she groaned. “What did you do?”

His eyes darted about as though he was looking for an escape before locking back on hers and dropping.

“I ran into a cave full of adult witches and wizards by myself without my wand.”

The last was whispered and it was only the fact that she was listening for it that Daphne heard it. Her hand acted on instinct, not that she would have stopped it even if she’d thought about it, after all, she’d seen her mother do the same thing to her father more than once.

“Ow! What was that for?” Harry complained, rubbing the back of his head.

“Maybe next time you’ll think before doing something so recklessly _stupid_!” she retorted. Then, “how are you still alive?”

“Um, because I can do wandless magic?” he replied sheepishly.

Daphne closed her eyes. “Of course you can.”

“Did a right good job of taking them all down, too. You wouldn’t believe some of the spells that he used,” Sirius supplied happily. “And then he got the baby dragons to sit on the bad guys.”

“And summoned us,” Remus beamed and Daphne was sure that there was something else there that she hadn’t been told.

“Harry?” she asked warningly.

Thankfully, he got it.

“I produced my first real patronus and a messenger patronus at that,” he replied happily. “It’s a dragon.”

“A patronus,” Daphne stated flatly. “I know you said that you’d been practicing but … a patronus? At your age? That’s … that’s …”

She finished with a shake of her head. No one that she’d ever heard of had been able to produce a patronus at fifteen. Hell, not many _adults_ could produce one. She wasn’t even sure if her father could and he was one of the strongest wizards that Daphne knew.

And then her brain froze, her head snapping up to stare at her boyfriend.

“Yes, he did it wandlessly,” Remus supplied for her. “And no, Harry has no idea what that means.”

“Yes, I do,” the boy in question protested. “I produced a patronus just as you’d been teaching me!”

Daphne stared at him for a long moment before tearing her gaze away to stare at Remus.

“Do you want to explain it to him or shall I?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Harry,” Daphne said, turning back to him and she noted the confusion in his eyes. “Harry. Did you truly cast a patronus without your wand?”

“Yeah, I’d left my wand in my room,” he replied. “There was no other way. And to be honest, I didn’t even realise I’d done any of those spells at all without it until Remus pointed it out to me.”

“But Harry, there are only a handful of witches and wizards that are strong enough to produce a patronus in any country and, of them, _none_ – at least that I’ve heard of – can do it _without a wand._ ”

“They can’t?” he blinked.

“No, they can’t,” she replied in a voice that she hoped that would make him understand the importance of what he’d done. “To be honest, there are a lot of things that you can do that most adult magicals can’t do. Your ball of light for example – which you still need to teach me how to do – not to mention all of the other wandless spells that you can do.”

“I’m sure that everyone could do it if they tried,” Harry protested. “I … I just got an advantage having to learn how to control my magic without a wand.”

“She’s right, kiddo,” Sirius stated. “You’re powerful. Real powerful. _Scary_ powerful.”

“Which is why it’s my job to help you understand how to use that power effectively and appropriately,” Remus quickly added.

“Can you … can you show me. Your patronus, I mean? I’d love to see it,” Daphne asked in a rush.

“Sure,” Harry beamed.

A strange look came over his face as he stared at her. It was a smile of pure happiness, of bliss, of something that she could only hope at. His eyes shone and the arm around her waist tightened slightly.

And then he thrust out his other hand, away from them, his eyes never once leaving hers.

“ _Expecto patronum!”_

A streak of silver erupted from his hand in a cloudy stream before coalescing into a shining silver dragon. It flew up, its great ghostly wings beating as it soared around the room. Instantly, every voice vanished, every body stilled as everyone stared up at the sight. The dragon continued its flight around the room before returning to Harry, its wings furling as it landed.

And then, it simply faded away.

Daphne continued staring at the spot, still trying to force herself to believe what she’d just seen. That was, until she felt Harry slump slightly. She switched focus onto him to find that the bags under his eyes had grown alarmingly and his head was drooping.

“Harry?” she all-but-cried in alarm.

“I’m alright,” he mumbled. “Just tired.”

A large hand landed on Harry’s shoulder steading him and Daphne looked up to see the Head Dragon Handler standing there.

“That’s enough of that, lad,” Alexander said. “You’re all done in and pumping out excess magic like that’ll mean you’ll be sleeping for days. Not something your girl will appreciate, not after having come all this way to see you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I reckon you’re right,” Harry nodded.

“Good lad,” he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. His gaze switched to Daphne and she noticed that he actually had quite caring-looking brown eyes, something that she wouldn’t have expected from the rough-looking man. “How about you take him back to his cabin, lass.”

“I can do that,” she nodded. “Come on, Harry, up you get, I’m not carrying you there; you’re going to have to help me by walking yourself.”

With a nod, he complied. Then, arms around each other, they slowly began making their way towards the door that seemed such a long, long way away.

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_8:40am_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

The three men at the table – two sitting, one standing – watched the teens go before Alexander turned back to the other two.

“Got a letter here for you,” he said, pulling out one envelope from the stack in his hand.

“Thanks,” Sirius said, reaching across to take it.

“Any news on how those poachers got in?” Remus asked.

Alexander’s face darkened at the question.

“Yeah. Charlie’s team found a breach in the wards,” he replied. “They used an ingenious little device that pumped out just enough magic to create a localised hole. It was big enough for a person to crawl through on their bellies, small enough to avoid sounding an alarm. Never seen the like of it before.”

“At least you’ve got it now,” Sirius said. “What are you going to do with it? Hand it to the aurors, destroy it or study it?”

“Having it doesn’t ease my mind,” Alexander retorted. “Where there’s one of these things, there’s bound to be more. No. The aurors’ll get it, right enough, but not until after we’ve found out how the thing works. If’n we can do that, then we can add extra layers to the wards so that no other poachers can get in using one of those Merlin-be-damned things.”

“That could take a while,” Remus warned.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Sirius corrected. “My family delved into ‘ward busters’ and ‘toothpicks’ and all kinds of dark devices that would get you into places you shouldn’t be. From what I remember from my dear old dad, those things are notoriously difficult to make and even harder to counter.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find a way,” Alexander stated before holding up the stack of letters in his hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a few more of these to deliver and a couple I’ll need to answer myself.”

“Do you have any books in the Black library that could help them work it out?” Remus asked.

“Probably,” Sirius answered although his mind wasn’t quite on the question.

“Padfoot?” Remus asked.

Sirius looked up into the eyes of his oldest friend. “Moony, why would the Regent Longbottom be writing to us? She hates us.”

“Well, after what the four of us and Frank did to her drawing room that time, I’d say her feelings were quite justified,” Remus replied and his serious tone was completely undone by the twitching in the corners of his mouth at the memory that the both of them were obviously thinking about. “As to why she’d be writing, I can think of only one way to find out.”

“You mean open it?” an alarmed Sirius asked, staring down at the letter in his hand in horror. “What if it’s booby-trapped?”

“This is Augusta Longbottom, _not_ one of the Marauders,” Remus countered incredulously. “Just open the damn letter.”

/ ( 0 v 0 ) \

_1:05pm_

_Monday, 8 August 1995_

_Romanian Dragon Reserve, Romania_

.

It’d been one of the longest days that Alexander could remember and it was barely lunchtime. Still, the important stuff had been dealt with.

The hole in the wards had been repaired. The device had been taken to a magical artificer that Alexander himself knew and trusted; they’d used the man before so there was no fear that the device would be copied and used against them.

The aurors had even already left with the men and women who’d broken into the Reserve in tow not half and hour before.

Alexander had stood there, watching as the group had been roped together ready to be portkeyed to the nearest auror headquarters. The fact that four of them had visibly flinched and shied backwards nearly toppling the lot of them to the ground right before the portkey had activated had confused Alexander. That was until he realised what it was that had frightened the poachers: the sight of young Harry emerging from his cabin, one arm around that girl of his, to stand there, staring at them. Alexander couldn’t stop the smirk that appeared on his face. Yes, he’d done well there, putting the fear of the Speaker of Dragons into those men. Hopefully, that fear would spread.

Thinking of young Harry Potter had Alexander glancing back down at the letter on his desk.

Pushing aside his plate, he picked up the parchment again and read it through.

The request wasn’t unreasonable. In fact, it was down-right polite, much more polite than one he’d write if the situation was reversed. The question, though, was simple enough. Was the boy ready?

Oh, he’d picked up the basics right well. Better than most, at that and twice as fast. Of course, being able to talk to the dragons likely helped there. But it was still very early days. The boy had only been with them for a little over a week. Was it right to send him on his way already?

Folding the letter, Alexander leant back in his chair and let his eyes stare off into the distance. The tap, tap, tap of the parchment against his chin was almost soothing, the familiar action helping him to gather his thoughts.

It was an English-speaking Reserve, so there was that. Language wouldn’t be a problem, like it was here at times. Luckily, the majority of the Handlers here in Romania spoke English as a first, second or even third language, something that helped considering that they had yet to start the boy’s Romanian language lessons.

And he wouldn’t be alone, either. Black and Lupin would go. Charlie, too, Alexander decided. The two of them had a good rapport building and Charlie could benefit from visiting some of the other Reserves. He could learn some extra techniques to bring back and, as a bonus, Charlie’d be that much closer to getting his own Mastery, something that at that moment he was still a year away from.

The decision had been made. Really, there hadn’t been anything to decide. The boy’s contract made it clear. He wasn’t just contracted to the Romanian Dragon Reserve but to all the Sanctuaries and Reserves that had signed.

Alexander glanced up at the clock. Ordinarily, the boy’d be with Charlie right then, checking a couple of the dragons’ health, making sure there was no scale rot evident or cracks in their hide starting to appear, not to mention their wing membranes, teeth and eyes. Not today, though. After what the boy, Harry, had done the night before and especially with how much magic he’d used, he was on bed rest for the rest of the day.

It was just a shame that Harry was going to have to say goodbye to his girl so soon after she’d arrived. Still, that was the nature of the job and why almost all Dragon Handlers remained single.

So, talk to Harry, Black and Lupin first. Check the portkey second and speak to Charlie when he came back up from his rounds.

That’d give them plenty of time to prepare and to take a portkey first thing in the morning before breakfast. With the time difference and allowing for the half hour stop in New Delhi, that should have them arriving at the Preserve in time for breakfast exactly forty-five minutes after leaving here. Or dinner. Or whatever meal the four of them wanted to call it.

Levering himself out of his chair, Alexander tossed the letter to his desk and strode forth to get the job done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N – If you’re enjoying this story, check out my profile page where you can find all of my FanFiction stories. Also there is a link to my Facebook page and my website where you will find all of my original stories as well.


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